


Love Transparent

by Kairyn



Series: Love Transparent [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), ambiguous timeline, fading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairyn/pseuds/Kairyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas goes missing when he finally is found he's not at all himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first foray onto this site, thought I'd start out with a simple love story between two of my favorite characters. And not post a story that's already mostly done because pfft why would I do that? That would be sensible...
> 
> It's been a while since I read the books so this might be more movie canon than book but I tried to keep it pretty book canon too. This will probably only be a couple chapters long. Also, hopefully formatting works... if not I'll fix it as soon as I can.

Normally nimble feat were slow and far heavier than normal. He didn’t even attempt to weave around the thick tree roots that pushed up through the dirt and leaf bed, nor did he bother to follow any particular trail. He didn’t even know if he’d been on one to begin with, as he’d not been paying attention. He wasn’t certain how he’d gotten here and he didn’t spend any time pondering it. Not even the whispers and friendly concern of the ancient trees around him could bring his mind away from the oppressive mist that fogged his mind and vision.

His foot, which for some reason he didn’t care to recall was bare, nearly caught over a large fallen branch to make him stumble. He didn’t though he did reach out with one hand to brace himself in a purely automatic move. The thick knobby bark of the ancient tree felt comfortingly real and solid under his long fingers. He closed his eyes and tried to take more comfort in the untamed expanse of wood all around him but very little comfort managed to reach him through the fog.

His fingers traced the rough texture of the trees for a minute and let his mind drift off to other things. A harsh memory rose unbidden and his hand abruptly dropped from the tree. His eyes opened again and he let out a sigh far heavier than he thought one of his kind could produce. He began moving again for no other reason than he had to distract himself from his thoughts. It wasn’t working in the slightest but old habits died hard and wandering through woods always distracted him from his concerns before.

These ancient trees were different than the ones that normally comforted him but they tried to call out to him anyway. They tried and he appreciated it but their efforts were not truly helping.

He caught the sound of running water just before he ungracefully stumbled into a small clearing. The spring bubbled up from between several rocks covered in rich emerald green moss. The flowing water splashed down to pool in between tree roots and other rocks before draining away into a small stream. Pearls of water looked like crystals where they landed on the thick moss. The pool was not very deep but clear as the open skies. Without any conscious thought, he fell to his knees beside the spring. The thick moss cushioned his knees from the hard landing though he’d barely paid attention to that.

Leaning over he dipped a hand into the water. The icy coldness of it was shocking but helped him focus for a moment. He wasn’t sure why his feet had decided to bring him here. He hadn’t intended to come here. He hadn’t intended to go anywhere really. Not at the time. Especially not so ill suited. He hadn’t a weapon on him. Or shoes. Or even apparently a tunic. He frowned in confusion. Why was he so ill dressed in the first place?

Then he recalled. Last he’d felt himself he’d been in the midst of getting dressed after bathing. He must not have finished before-

He closed his eyes tightly as he remembered precisely what had interrupted him. Damn his ears. For all the help they were in tracking in the woods they were cruel to his heart to allow him to hear what he didn’t want to know. Burning hot tears escaped his long lashes to skim their way down his pale face and fall into the spring with barely a sound. It was only a few of them but they left clear trails that he didn’t bother wiping away. It wasn’t as if anyone was around to see his first tears in centuries anyway. He slowly sat back and let his hand leave the icy water of the spring, which seemed to have replaced his blood entirely.

His whole chest ached as his heart struggled to continue a steady rhythm when it seemed to be so cold that it wanted to freeze his insides solid. He let out a deliberately slow breath and shifted back to rest his back against the hard uneven bark of one of the trees. He needed to pull himself together, he knew. This wasn’t at all like him. He stared at the bubbling water of the spring and tried to recollect himself.

It was hard, his mind simply didn’t want to focus and the pain in his chest was ever present. His eyes never left the water flowing over the rocks but he no longer truly saw it. So consumed with trying to fight his way back to full control of his mind and heart, he didn’t notice the sun rise. It shifted through the sky without him noticing and he was utterly unaware of the sun still as it set again a number of hours later.

Nothing disturbed him though the ancient trees did rustle and creak in concern. They could not reach him with their calls so they settled into a thicker grouping to ensure nothing dangerous could reach the distant one sitting among the roots like a lost child.

Leaves drifted down from the trees, a few landing on his pale golden head and into his lap. He didn’t notice even slightly. The stars and moons rotated in the heavens above the forest and he never once looked up at them. His skin as smooth and pale and fair as it was, seemed slightly less than it had the night before. The brilliance that seemed to radiate outwards had reduced and the life animating his blue eyes so that they nearly glowed even in dimness had fogged over so that the blue faded to nearly grey. And still he could not find it in him to move.

Outside of the forest, there were those that began to move past worried to near panicked. Nobody had seen their friend in far too long. Letters and searches flew every which way. Surely he’d just wandered off on some whim and lost track of the time? It wasn’t much like him but then he’d been acting strangely for a few days before he disappeared. A curse was muttered in a particularly guttural language as he dark eyes glared across the night landscape. “What’s that elf gotten into now?” he grumbled before turning away to go… do something. He wasn’t sure what but he had to do something. His dearest friend was missing with no word and the strangest of circumstances. He hadn’t even taken the stupid horse! Or his precious bow!

Though the war was won, leaving to venture into the wilds without any sort of weapon was simply foolish. Even for the most foolish elf he’d ever met. The sound of bare feet running closer caught his attention and he turned to see one of the little curly haired menaces hurrying towards him. As soon as they’d heard their friend had disappeared they’d come hurrying from their homes though they had very little experience in finding missing elves. Still, they had insisted on coming. Thankfully, only the one was currently ambushing him. “Gimli! Any news?”

He scowled a little and shook his head. “Daft elf’s still not come back,” he answered gruffly. He somewhat regretted his tone when the shorter male’s slightly rounded face fell in a wholly unnatural way. It just didn’t look right to see the little one’s beaming face look so forlorn. “We’ll find him, Master Pippin,” Gimli said in a slightly softer tone. “He probably just went off and wandered away. You know how he gets.”

“Without his shoes?” Pippin asked incredulously. “He’s not a Hobbit!”

Gimli made a face. That had been one of the more unusual and slightly disturbing things they’d found when they realized Legolas was not in his room, or indeed anywhere in the Glittering Caves, that in his room they’d found he’d taken nothing with him. Legolas was a silly elf but not that terribly silly. Even the redheaded dwarf was having trouble rationalizing why the elf Prince would have left without even shoes on his feet. While on occasion he’d seen Legolas without shoes it was usually only after having just finished bathing. He was not terribly prone to wandering around barefoot.

Gimli reached out and put a heavy hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Pippin, we’ll find him.”

“What if something happens to him before we do?” Pippin asked, eyes shining with worry.

“Legolas can look after himself,” Gimli reminded as gently as he could. “He took down an oliphaunt without help. He can handle whatever he might find out there.”

Pippin did seem to calm down a bit at that reminder. “It’s just so strange… like someone just snatched him up,” he said. His eyes went huge again as that new thought settled in his curly head. “You don’t think that could have happened do you, Gimli?”

The dwarf snorted. “If someone took Legolas they’ll bring him back soon enough with all the singing he does. Annoy them into submission he would.”

The Hobbit brightened some at the joke though he still held worry in his eyes. “I like Legolas’ singing.”

Gimli chuckled slightly and ruffled the Hobbit’s curly hair. “I’m sure he’d be glad to hear that, Lad. You should tell him once we find where he’s run off to.”

Pippin still looked unsure but nodded anyway. “I should go find Merry, Éowyn is supposed to be back soon. She’s probably found him!” he said as cheerfully as he could. Gimli nodded even though he highly doubted that. None of the search parties had come back with Legolas. There was little to make him believe that would suddenly change. Pippin scampered off with his forced cheer to go and find his cousin so that they could ambush the Shield Maiden as soon as she arrived. Gimli felt somewhat guilty for not attempting to dissuade them. It wasn’t exactly fair to be jumped as soon as you got back from searching all over the Riddermark for an elf that had always been frustrating difficult to keep track of.

Gimli sighed and shook his head before starting to walk. If only someone had seen the Woodland Realm’s Prince _leave_ then it wouldn’t have been a problem. But apparently, nobody had. Gimli was not pleased at all when he heard that the guards had somehow overlooked Legolas leaving. Even if it was in the middle of the night Legolas was an _elf._ He bloody _glowed_ under the stars and moon. How could someone miss such a thing?

Legolas’ unfortunate tendency to wander had made it so that his absence was missed far later than it should have been. There had been some hope when they discovered Arod still in the stable that a few riders would be able to catch up with him on the open plains. That was proving painfully untrue.

Without really meaning to, Gimli ended up in front of said horse’s stall like he had for the past several nights in a row. “He’s still not back, horse,” Gimli said despite still feeling somewhat foolish for talking to a horse. He was a _dwarf_. He wasn’t supposed to have anything to do with horses but that damned elf rubbed off on him.

Arod whickered softly and lipped at Gimli’s tunic. The dwarf grunted and pushed the horse’s large head away. He glanced down the stables and saw nobody so he begrudgingly pulled out the apple he’d brought -entirely by coincidence, of course- and held it up for the horse. Instantly it disappeared and Gimli grunted again. Now he was doting on the stupid horse of all things! “Fool elf didn’t mention where he was off to did he?” he asked.

There was, understandably, no answer. “You’d be more useful if you were a bloodhound, Arod,” Gimli grumbled. “At least then you might be able to track him.” Horses weren’t exactly tracking animals. There was no need to track when you chewed on grass all day.

Then again…

It wasn’t entirely unheard of. Brego had found Aragorn that time he fell… Gimli eyed the horse he’d ridden for so long behind Legolas for a moment. Horses bred and raised by the men of Rohan were said to be far more than other horses. No. No, it was a foolish thought. But, hell, he hated waiting around for the others to come back with nothing to show for it.

Gimli cursed to himself even as he went up to his room and gathered his rucksack and axe, which had definitely _not_ been sitting by his door waiting. No. Never. They had been by the foot of his bed, thank you very much. Thinking that he must have been losing his mind and Elfish foolishness was definitely a contagion of some sort that seriously needed a cure discovered, Gimli quickly went back to the stables. “Alright, horse,” he said as he unlatched the front of the stall. “I can’t ride you proper but you have to lead me to that daft elf.”

It took some doing to get Arod saddled properly and then _in_ to the saddle but Gimli managed it with the help of a few boxes and hay bales. He would have no real control or anyway to say, get back on if he fell, but it would be faster than walking. Arod looked back at him with one huge eye and Gimli scoffed. “Just find him, Arod. He’s been gone too long,” he told the horse. Arod’s ears flicked a few times before the horse started walking quite calmly out of the stall and stable. “Don’t go off running or anything,” he added as he grabbed hold of the reins and let Arod decide where they were going.

He didn’t dare stop and get down from Arod. Nor did he rush the horse that would occasionally stop dead and look around the plains. His ears would twitch and then he’d snort before choosing a direction. The horse felt entirely too big without an Elf to share his back with. Oh, he’d ridden without Legolas before, and he hadn’t liked it. He liked it even less now though he wasn’t as nervous about being so high off the ground.

Gimli found himself terribly unhappy at the lack of Elvish singing going on. Though he complained about it, Legolas’ voice did fill the silence nicely. Even if Gimli couldn’t always understand whatever the blasted songs were about. Then again, Legolas had been unusually quite before he disappeared. Ever since the party that had been thrown and left both of them raucously drunk. Gimli wasn’t even sure how he’d ended up in his bed by the end of it and he was sure he’d been sure he’d said something that offended the Elf at first. Legolas denied it though something that happened had clearly bothered him.

Gimli hadn’t had time to pry the real reason for the Elf’s mood from Legolas. He was forever being called away to oversee something and rarely had time to chat. Now the Prince of Mirkwood was gone and Gimli was certain it could all be traced to that night though he had no earthly idea what could have evoked such a reaction. And days later at that. Legolas had stewed for three days before apparently leaving in such a rush he’d forgotten his boots.

No, whatever happened was more than just Gimli making a fool of himself so perhaps someone else had upset the Elf? He couldn’t imagine any of his Dwarven brethren saying anything. Not when he’d been so clear already it wouldn’t be tolerated. But strong mead and beer tended to bring out the worst in people. Well, he would just have to force the Elf to be out with what was bothering him when he was finally found. That was all there was to it.

Arod was relentless as he walked through the rolling hills of Rohan. Gimli was somewhat annoyed at how long it was taking but he knew enough to know that he’d fall off if Arod moved any faster without something significant to hold onto. He’d had that lesson already. Painfully. It was rather humiliating falling in the middle of a whole bunch of horse folk. It would be worse out here where he’d have to find a way back _up._

It was almost like the first trip through Rohan, only instead oh hunting for Hobbits with an Elf and man he was hunting for an Elf with a horse. Arod rarely paused to rest and Gimli dozed off only very lightly before they, after two days of impressive effort from Arod, they arrived at a place that Gimli was truly truly hoping they wouldn’t arrive at.

Fangorn Forest loomed ever unpleasantly above them and Gimli swallowed thickly. He should have known. Where else would an upset Elf go but to a forest? Apparently he was upset enough to forget the vow he’d made to not come here alone. That boded ill for, despite being Thranduil’s son, Legolas had never before broken his word. “You’re sure he’s in there?” Gimli asked.

Arod snorted and sidestepped anxiously. “Calm down now,” Gimli snapped. He knew this place unsettled the horse. Mahal’s Beard he was unsettled too but he was not about to give up just because of a few trees. That… ripped Orcs apart. And moved. Why couldn’t the Elf have gone to Edoras!?

Gimli took a breath and leaned forward to pat Arod’s dappled neck. “Easy, lad, I don’t like it either but we’ve been worse,” he reminded gently. Arod had been terribly scared of the Path of the Dead (again something they shared) but he’d made it through even if it was with constant cajoling and comforting from Legolas. At least this place was free of the living dead who couldn’t be fought against. At least Gimli could try and fight back. That was something. Arod still gave a few nervous steps and shook his head before nearly jumping forward.

“That’s it,” Gimli encouraged, as he held to the saddle tight. Arod’s ears were back as he carefully picked his way through the forest. It was extremely slow going as the roots were a tangle and the trees grew thick together. It was why they hadn’t brought the horses in the first time. Well, that and they were too terrified. But he would never be able to find Legolas in this place without Arod.

The forest was thick with not just trees but an almost malevolent pressure that made the air hot and oppressive. Gimli eyed the trees and patted Arod gently as he’d seen Legolas do over and over. The trees creaked and groaned around them and Arod nearly spooked but Gimli thought back to everything he’d seen Legolas do before and replicated it as best he could. Arod slowly calmed though his breaths were coming in hard puffs and his sides were streaked with sweat. “Easy then, Arod. Sooner we find Legolas the sooner we’ll be out of here,” he assured the horse.

The trees groaned again and Gimli swore that they shifted closer together. “Here now!” he shouted at them, he just _knew_ they were magical enough to understand him. The Elf insisted on it and he’d seen what they could do himself. “We’re not here to fight trees! We’re looking for an Elf so keep your tempers to yourselves!”

Gimli winced and Arod whinnied as the trees grew louder in response. Gimli was nearly thrown but his strong forged limbs held tight until Arod managed to calm again. “You don’t want us here and we don’t want to be here! Just let us to our business and we’ll bother you no more! We’re not here to be enemies, just looking for a dear friend!”

The forest suddenly stilled and that almost seemed worse. Gimli tightened his grip, making leather creak beneath his fingers. Were they preparing for an attack? There were several minutes of silence and then, very hesitantly, Arod began to nervously pick his way forward again.

The trees stayed silent. Mostly. They still seemed to creak and groan as they were passed but not as much as before. Not so much to cause Arod to bolt dangerously. Fleeing from this thick forest would undoubtedly bring the faithful horse down. The roots were too closely woven together. Gimli patted Arod again. “That’s it, lad, ignore the trees and find Legolas. Then we’ll be rid of this place and you’ll have as many apples as you want.” He would shamelessly bribe the horse with whatever he could if it meant continuing so that they could quickly leave again.

It was impossible to tell time inside Fangorn. The trees so tightly wove their branches together that no sky could be seen. And yet somehow, underbrush still managed to grow. It was sparse and scrubby but it remained and added to Arod’s difficulties. The long suffering ever loyal horse deserved all the apples he got, Gimli decided.

Though the trees seemed to have quieted the roots were still giving Arod problems. It seemed like an endless dance for him to make it even a few steps forward. Gimli still didn’t like how the trees pressed down on him. Perhaps, with Legolas, they would behave more but as it were they left no reason for Gimli to desire wandering this forest. Though, if Legolas still wanted to return here after this trip, the Dwarf supposed he _had_ promised. It would be worth it to show off the beautiful caverns beneath Helm’s Deep. He hadn’t yet gotten the chance to show them off properly what with the rebuilding efforts.

Gimli wanted to call out to Legolas, surely the Elf’s pointy ears would hear him even in this oppressive forest. But the desire to remain as silent and hopefully unnoticed as possible overrode the desire to call out. Making loud noises here seemed as smart as making loud noises in Moria. At least there were no wells in Fangorn…

But there were apparently springs. He could hear running water nearby. “You should find that water, Arod,” he murmured to the horse beneath him. “You could use it.” Legolas would be furious if Arod were pushed too hard without a proper rest and Gimli wouldn’t forgive himself either.

Arod tossed his head and carefully stepped over a large root. He hopped forward over another before nearly having to sidestep. There was a particularly thick bunching of trees in front of them that the water seemed to be coming from. It would be a tight squeeze to get through so Gimli carefully shifted to try and make it easier. Without his legs on either side of Arod’s ribs the horse might just be able to fit.

It was still a squeeze but Arod managed to get through to the small clearing where the spring was bubbling almost too cheerfully. Gimli quickly forgot about the water though. His eyes widened at the sight of the figure sitting in the huge roots of one of the trees. “Legolas!” he practically fell out of the saddle before rushing forward. Legolas didn’t stir; he didn’t even blink. There were dead leaves tangled in his unbraided hair and gathered in his lap. His skin was oddly off. It looked more like paper, smooth and flawless but thin and ordinary. His brilliant blue eyes had turned a dim grey, like an unpolished river stone opposed to the jewel-like glow they’d had before. “Legolas?” Gimli knelt down in front of the Elf and cautiously put a hand on his friend’s knee.

Legolas was terribly cold and he still didn’t stir. But he could see his bare chest rise and fall ever so slightly so he was definitely alive. At first Gimli thought he was in that odd trance Elves called sleep. But then he realized it couldn’t be he’d seen Legolas ‘sleep’ before and it had never looked quite like this. It usually only took a brief shake to wake the Elf from his trance or reverie as he called it.

“Legolas, lad, come on and wake up,” he said giving Legolas’ knee a brief shake. Still the Elf remained still and entirely unresponsive. Gimli hated to admit fear. He always had. But the state his dear friend was in frightened him. He’d never seen anything like it.

He called again but Legolas still didn’t respond. “We have to get you back…” Gimli muttered as he reached forward and untangled the dead leaves from Legolas’ silken hair. He couldn’t remember seeing Legolas with his hair undone before and he rarely indulged in touching it but he was somewhat less than surprised that it slipped through his fingers like liquid gold. The leaves clung to those glorious locks stubbornly but Gimli carefully untangled each one. As he untangled the leaves and tossed them aside, Gimli couldn’t help but notice thin lines of silk spread between Legolas and the tree he was cradled against. Spider webs. Just how long had Legolas been sitting here?

Gimli felt a strange hand try to strangle his throat but forced himself to breathe through it. “Come on, lad, you’ve been out here long enough,” he said as he quickly batted the thin strands away. More than long enough.

Once Legolas was free of forest debris, Gimli took hold of one pale wrist to haul the Elven Prince away from the tree. He was far colder than Gimli expected. Like ice. Or a corpse. Gimli refused to think on that for more than a fleeting second. Legolas… flopped. Entirely lifelessly. Scarily so. His head fell back as if he couldn’t support its weight on his own. He’d never seen Legolas so utterly devoid of life. It brought tears to Gimli’s eyes though he tried to ignore that. “Come on, Legolas, cooperate now for once in your life,” he muttered, though it came out strangled.

He pulled Legolas bodily from the tree and hefted his long limbed companion onto his own back. It was awkward. The Elf’s pale limbs were everywhere but Gimli ignored that. Luckily, there were some rocks that looked large enough to give him a boost upwards. It took all of his strength and more time than he wanted to get Legolas onto Arod. Once the Elf was there he slumped like a puppet with his strings cut. Gimli swallowed hard and awkwardly pulled himself up onto Arod’s back. It nearly sent Legolas tumbling to the side but Gimli managed to grab hold of the ill Elf in time to save him. He made sure to sit in front of Legolas and pulled the Elf close so that his body was resting against Gimli’s back.

Golden hair spilled forward across Gimli’s armor as the Dwarf wrapped long pale arms around himself. He made sure to keep a solid grip on Legolas’ wrists even as he murmured to Arod. They had to get back to Helm’s Deep. Whatever was wrong with the Elf it needed to be fixed. And it needed to be fixed _now_.


	2. Chapter Two

The amount of time it took to get out of Fangorn forest seemed even longer than how long it took to find Legolas in the first place. The Elf was still dead weight against his back and the Gimli had to resist the urge to look behind him and ensure his friend was alive still. Yes, he was immortal and all but… but he was just not there and that was frightening. The Legolas he was used to continually flitted around and sang or rambled on about whatever nature they happened to be passing.

Hopefully, a healer would be able to figure out what was wrong with the Princeling, though Gimli did wish that they had an Elven one at Helm’s Deep. If only because this didn’t seem to be something that would happen to a mortal.

Arod was cautious as he picked his way back out the way he’d come. The trees were still creaking in that terribly offsetting way that they had but much of the oppressive atmosphere seemed to have dissipated making it easier to breathe. Though still nervous in the forest, Arod managed to bravely navigate his way back out without spooking. Gimli was actually quite proud of him. He reached forward with one hand and patted Arod’s thick neck. “That’s a good lad,” he said as they finally left the tree line behind. “Now just get us back.”

The horse snorted loudly and threw his head before moving again. At least, from this point, it should be a straight shot back to Helm’s Deep. So long as no straggling wargs or Orcs came down from the hills. Gimli didn’t particularly want to deal with them right now. Not with an unresponsive and half-dressed Elf slung over his back. Gimli’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around Legolas’ wrist and pulled the taller male closer.

The sun was beginning to set and that was the time that problems were bound to occur. Luckily, he saw so well in the dark he would probably get some sort of warning if anything did try to attack them. They were making good time and Fangorn was quickly behind them even as the sun warped over the horizon before sinking fully. Gimli found that in absence of Elven rambling he took up the role. He started describing the Glittering Caves in great detail. From the mirror-like lake he’d found to the different gemstones that littered the walls like mosaics to the massive natural columns that were still forming in some areas. He told of the different rocks that made up the Misty Mountains and how they differed from the ones that made up the Iron Hills and the Blue Mountains. He kept expecting Legolas to give some comment but he didn’t. He stayed silent and still where he was slumped. The sky darkened fast while he talked even as stars twinkled into existence and the moon slowly rose. It was about then that Gimli noticed something even more disturbing about his friend’s state.

Normally, Legolas seemed to collect light and throw it back out like a living mirror but the arm that Gimli was keeping hold of was strangely normal even under the moon. He was still pale as ever but he didn’t seem as ethereal as he had before he’d gone missing. Gimli glanced behind him and was not at all happy to see that it wasn’t just his arm that was strangely mortal looking. His eyes were still distant and dull, his hair still silky and shiny but in a less illuminated way. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, to be sure, but he looked like a finely crafted lantern that had no candle. Or, Gimli supposed, in this case, a star that had been hollowed out. The Dwarf shivered at the idea and turned back around. “Come on then, horse,” Gimli said as he patted Arod gently, “Our friend here needs to get help.”

Still unsettled at the lack of activity from Legolas, Gimli launched into another overly descriptive explanation of the way they were rebuilding the Deeping Wall. After that, he described the design he was making for Aragorn’s gates. He knew Legolas wouldn’t be terribly interested but he didn’t care. He was not comfortable in this situation. What he wouldn’t give for those blasted Elf twins to show up. At least then they would be able to get Legolas back to Helm’s Deep quickly and possibly even help themselves. They’d probably at least know what was wrong with him!

Gimli complained about riding as he always did but this time got no gentle laughter or witty reply for his efforts. He returned to talking about the Caves and their wonders. He tried his utmost to paint with only words the utterly beautiful way the drapery formations had crept down in one chamber and how when a candle was placed behind them you could see them glow and count the thin lines of rich amber mixed with the lighter yellows and tans that had formed over the centuries. Gimli even described the one chamber where he’d tapped a stalactite and it had resonated with the clearest bell-like tone he’d ever heard. It was deep and soft but incredibly musical. Gimli just knew that the Elf would be able to appreciate that cavern at the very least. Several of the formations had resonated beautifully, like a gigantic musical instrument. He knew how much Elves liked music. He knew how much _Legolas_ liked music.

Finding it hard to continue talking, Gimli resorted to singing a few songs that came to him. He really shouldn’t considering the language they were in but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

The sun was achingly slow to rise.

Gimli kept talking or singing or even humming if his throat needed a rest.

He needed Legolas to respond to _something_ so he would keep trying. He was a stubborn Dwarf after all. He didn’t just give up. Especially not on a dear friend like Legolas. Arod skirted the base of the Misty Mountains fairly closely, a little too much for Gimli’s taste to be honest, but the Dwarf had no real way to direct the horse further away from where dangers would be lurking. He was too busy ensuring the still strangely cold Elf behind him stayed on the horse and trying to get him to respond to deal with fighting a headstrong stallion.

The Dwarf kept his ears alert for any sign of something foul lurking nearby. Luckily, he heard nothing. “Ya know, Legolas, you’ve got the Hobbits all worried about you,” he said in an attempt to be scolding. It was hard to do though when he was equally worried about his friend’s state. “You’d do well to get better soon and show them you’re fine or they’ll never forgive you. You don’t want to make Master Took upset do you?” When there was again not even a twitch of response Gimli growled. “Stubborn Elf!” What in Mahal’s name was wrong with him?

“Legolas, you have to wake up sometime!” he snapped, letting his fear morph to anger. A far safer emotion for him at the moment. “Bloody Pointy-Eared Spoilt Elf Princeling! Why did you wander off on your own? Why wouldn’t you tell me what happened at the party? Foolish Weedeater!” Gimli continued his rant, often resorting to spewing insults when actual complaints had been exhausted. Luckily for him, he had no shortage of insults. He was a Dwarf and Dwarves had many creative names for Elves. Gimli used them all in his frustration, anger, and fear. Part of him was hoping to rile Legolas’ pride if he couldn’t get a reaction from concern.

Gimli lapsed into silence after nearly half an hour of ranting and stared blankly at Arod’s withers. If not even calling up old grudges could elicit a response Gimli wasn’t sure what else he could try.

The sun was finally fully in the sky and climbing higher and higher. Fangorn was nothing but a green line behind them when Gimli took a rare look back. Arod seemed to be moving a bit faster than he had on their way out, which Gimli was insanely happy about. He glanced down at Legolas’ wrist and noted –with no small amount of trepidation- that it was turning from simply flawlessly pale to almost ashen and grey. It was just slightly off color but for Gimli who had been taking very careful note of the Elf’s state, it was enough of a change to instantly worry over. “Come on, Laddie… whatever’s wrong with you, you gotta snap out of it,” Gimli murmured. He hated the almost pleading tone that had entered his voice but he couldn’t help it.

The Dwarf’s fear was growing alarmingly each time Legolas’ condition apparently further worsened. He didn’t know what was wrong with his friend but he knew enough to know it was bad. That whatever was wrong threatened the Elf’s very life. Because no Elf looked like Legolas now did. And Gimli found nothing he said or did was helping. How was Gimli supposed to fight such a thing? He didn’t know what it was or why it was happening. He had no weapons to use to fight for his friend.

“Legolas… please, I don’t know what’s wrong… but if you can’t fight it then at least hold on a bit longer,” Gimli said as he fixed the horizon they were headed towards with a fierce stare. “Just hold on for me, Legolas.”

The silence stretched for a while until Gimli could take no more of it. He sought solace again in his memories of the Glittering Caves and spoke of them, not caring if he repeated his descriptions so long as the silence was filled with something. Especially something pleasant.

It was almost midday when Arod suddenly halted and his nostrils flared. Gimli’s mouth snapped shut and he scanned the surrounding area. The horse’s ears twitched back and forth and he shifted uneasily. Gimli’s dark eyes searched desperately for a way to get back up onto Arod if he had to jump down but he saw nothing. Nor did he see whatever was making the brave Arod pause. He leaned forward and rubbed Arod’s neck. “Slowly now,” he muttered. Hopefully, since there was not yet an attack, they could slip past whatever was lurking nearby.

Arod let out a loud breath and took a cautious step forward. Gimli felt all of his muscles tense up as the horse continued to move one step at a time. Dwarven hands pulled Legolas tighter against Gimli’s back though that would make it harder to jump down to defend them if it came to that.

Gimli had never really appreciated grass before but as Arod continued his slow walk he found he couldn’t help but be insanely grateful for its existence. On stone, Arod’s shoes would make a horrible racket and they would never be able to sneak through anything. But the cushion of the grass and dirt hardly made any noise. At least not to Gimli’s ears. Perhaps to an Elf or some manner of beast it would be different. Hopefully it wouldn’t be different to whatever Arod was sneaking past.

Keen Dwarf ears could make out the sound of rocks shifting as something moved about it the crevices and ledges of the mountains so close to them. He couldn’t quite tell the size or nature of the creature however and he hoped it was something that would think better of attacking a horse and rider. Hopefully it was just a rabbit but, Gimli realized, that was probably not the most likely explanation.

Off in the distance, Gimli noticed a small group of riders. “There are some riders, Arod. Head that way,” he murmured. He wasn’t sure from such a distance who the riders were but since Orcs didn’t ride horses Gimli was willing to take the chance that the riders were friendly. Here in Rohan there weren’t many riding parties that didn’t know him and Legolas. They were rather… unique.

There was the sound of something growling coming from the mountains and Gimli slowly looked over. A single warg with its fur streaked with clumps of grey and several deep scars over its body had apparently climbed up onto a large rock and spotted them. Gimli pulled one of his throwing axes from his boot. Arod had frozen but now was sidestepping away and fidgeting. “Calm down, Lad,” Gimli growled as he tried his best to remain well situated in the saddle. “Easy!”

The old warg hopped down from his perch, still growling and showing teeth, even while Arod backed up quickly. Gimli cursed and was forced to let his friend’s limp hand go to grab the saddle so that he wouldn’t fall off. He was certain that if he fell to the ground the warg would be on him in a minute and while Gimli was sure he could handle one warg he didn’t exactly want to do it at such a disadvantage.

Gimli thought about it for a brief moment before growling and jumping down from Arod’s back. He didn’t want to leave Legolas without being secure but he also needed to protect him and the horse. “Come on then,” Gimli growled as he planted his feet and glared at the warg that had begun to circle.

Arod danced away and Gimli risked a glance to make sure his friend hadn’t fallen. Legolas was slumped forward across Arod’s neck but seemed to be stable where he was laying so the Dwarf turned his attention back to the approaching warg. Just in time it turned out, as the warg leapt forward in an attack. Gimli let out a shout as he moved out of the way and swung his axe towards the beast’s face. The warg snarled and came at the Dwarf again. Arod let out a noise of fright but managed to resist bolting.

Claws swiped at Gimli but the Dwarf’s axe easily deflected the attack before making one of his own. The axe cuts through the warg’s flesh and draws a yelp from the beast but the damage isn’t enough to send it running off. Gimli let out a wordless cross between a growl and a shout as he lifted his axe again. He didn’t get a chance to swing it though, as several arrows whizzed past and slammed into the warg’s side. The beast howled in pain as it fell to the ground.

It made a few pathetic attempts to move but quickly fell still. Gimli tried to not be annoyed. He hadn’t needed the help but he was rather glad he didn’t have to deal with the beast any longer. The Dwarf turned to see that the riders he’d spotted in the distance had apparently noticed the fight and come over. Gimli didn’t immediately lower his axe but he quickly recognized the helm on the rider up front. “Éomer!”

“Master Gimli,” Éomer greeted and then the horse lord apparently noticed the Elf. “Legolas?” It was said in nearly a gasp. Clearly he was just as shocked as Gimli had been at that state of their friend.

“Aye, we have to get him to Helm’s Deep,” Gimli said as he quickly put away his axe. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him but we have to get him help.”

Éomer still looked unsettled but gave a quick nod. “Then we shall get him there,” he agreed. “I am no Elf but you may ride with me, Master Dwarf,” he added as he quickly got down from his own steed to go to Arod. “One of my men will ride with Legolas.”

Gimli wanted to protest that idea. He didn’t want anyone else riding with Legolas but that would entirely defeat the point. It was far more important to get the Elf to where he could be helped and Gimli just could not ride fast. So, he begrudgingly agreed and let Éomer help him up onto a horse while another Rohirrim carefully moved the limp Elf to another horse to ride with him. Arod snorted and practically stamped his hoof and Gimli couldn’t help but think of a temper tantrum from a little Dwarrowling. “Come on then, Lad, we need to move fast,” Gimli said.

“And fast we will move,” Éomer agreed, though Gimli didn’t bother pointing out he’d been talking to the horse and not the Man. He was not about to admit to that. He had his pride as a Dwarf to think about after all. And Dwarves didn’t talk to horses. Not where anyone could see or hear them anyway.

The ride back to Helm’s Deep was much faster from then on and Gimli was glad for that, at least. He was less glad that he was behind Éomer but he would tolerate it because he had little choice. He was not going to ride back alone on Arod and he was certainly not going to run back on his own. Gimli caught sight of Arod running nearby riderless and couldn’t help but think that it looked very very wrong. He had grown very use to seeing Legolas riding the horse and now that he wasn’t, Gimli almost didn’t recognize what he was seeing.

As soon as they arrived at Helm’s Deep, there was a crowd that had gathered. A group of Rohirrim rushing to Helm’s Deep usually was a bad sign. Worry only increased when they stopped right by the gates and Éomer turned to the nearest guard. “Call my sister!” He ordered as he helped Gimli down with one arm. Éowyn had studied with the healers of Gondor for a short time and was most likely the best qualified to tend to Legolas until they could get an Elven healer.

Once he was on the ground, Gimli was nearly ambushed by a rushing Pippin and Merry but he paid them only the barest of attentions. As soon as Legolas was helped off of the horse and spotted by the two Hobbits, they went almost as pale as the Elf. “Legolas! What happened?”

“Gimli!”

“I found him like this,” Gimli told the two Hobbits. “I don’t know what’s wrong but we’ll get him help.”

Just then, Éowyn arrived. Her gasp echoed that of her brother earlier before she quickly turned to order someone to help get Legolas to his room. Éomer instantly moved forward with another few of his men to carry the Elf into the fortress and back to his room. Éowyn was just behind them and talking very quickly to what appeared to be another healer. “Write to Lord Elrond. He is the closest Elven healer. He should know what to do.”

“Write Aragorn as well,” Gimli added. “He has skill with healing and would want to know what’s happened.”

“What did happen?” Merry asked as he and Pippin had to nearly run to keep up with the much longer stride of the Men carrying Legolas.

Gimli shook his head. “I don’t know. I found the daft Elf just like this in Fangorn,” he said with a bit of a grumble. He still didn’t like that forest. He would have to try and talk Legolas out of going there like they’d planned. Mahal damned trees creaked too bloody much.

“Fangorn!” Éowyn echoed in horror. “How did you know to look there?”

“I didn’t,” Gimli replied. “Figured if anything could find the blasted Elf it would be the horse. He took me there.”

“Horses do that?” Pippin asked in confusion.

Éomer glanced behind him even as one of his men opened the door to Legolas’ room. “Arod is no ordinary horse, Master Pippin,” he said. “He is Rohirrim bred and has borne an Elven rider for months. I would not doubt he did as Gimli says.”

The conversation died there as the Rohirrim carefully laid Legolas on his bed. The Elf still didn’t so much as twitch despite having just been carried through the fortress to his room. Éomer quickly ordered his men out of the room again as his sister bent closer to examine Legolas. Gimli couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t find much. She may have training in healing but he just knew that this was some strange Elvish ailment.

Éomer laid a hand on Gimli’s shoulder and the Dwarf looked up at the blonde man. “I will tend to Arod and see that the letters are indeed sent to Lord Elrond and King Aragorn,” he said gently. Gimli nodded in understanding and turned his attention back to his dearest friend on the bed. He wasn’t sure why Éomer had used such a comforting, gentle, tone. As if he was talking to the Hobbits and not Gimli. Surely his concern wasn’t that obvious was it?

Merry and Pippin were hovering by the bed and looked as utterly afraid as they ever had. Gimli sighed and put a hand on each of their shoulders. The two Hobbits looked up instantly. “Why don’t you two lads get us something to eat and drink while Lady Éowyn sees to our friend?” he suggested. He knew it was dangerous to ask two _Hobbits_ to get food as they had no sense of proportion, but he didn’t want them lingering at Legolas’ bedside looking so sad either. It was hard enough without seeing them so distraught.

The two of them hesitated for a moment before nodding and hurrying off. Gimli sighed and went to sit in a nearby chair. He pulled off his helm and put it down on the table before running his hand over his red hair. “This is exactly how you found him, Gimli?” Éowyn asked, glancing at the Dwarf uneasily.

The Dwarf grunted in agreement. “Yes, well, he was a little… less pale at first,” he said as he eyed the Elf. “I don’t really know how to describe it… but he’s looking a bit different and not in a good way.”

Éowyn frowned at that and straightened. She had been hoping to find some wound that might help her explain this or at least give her something to treat, but she had found nothing at all. There was no explanation for why Legolas was like this. Nothing that she could heal or do anything about. “Hopefully, Lord Elrond responds quickly… I have no knowledge of what might help him.”

Gimli winced. “Aye… I was afraid you’d say that, Lass. I knew soon as I saw him this wasn’t a normal illness,” he admitted. “Don’t feel bad, Éowyn. I don’t have any idea what to do either.”

“But I was trained in the Houses of Healing. I should at least have some idea of what to do,” she argued softly.

“You trained to treat the wounds of Men,” Gimli pointed out as he dug around in his pack to pull out his pipe. “Not the wounds of point-eared Elven princes. We’ll do what we can for him now until Lord Elrond either comes to help or tells us what to do for him.”

Éowyn nodded and pulled the covers up over Legolas. “Why does he not respond though his eyes are open?” she asked softly.

“That’s how he sleeps,” Gimli offered as casually as he could while stuffing Old Toby into the bowl of his pipe. “It’s Elf weirdness but that’s how it’s always been. I’m more concerned with how cold he was. Like ice. Even when we were buried to my neck in snow he was not so cold.”

“Perhaps that is due to how little he was wearing,” Éowyn mused as she smoothed out the quilts so that they laid flat across the Elf’s still cold body. It hadn’t escaped Gimli’s notice that Legolas, despite being in the sun most of the morning with a Dwarf and horse near him, had not warmed at all. It was even more disturbing than the fact that the Elf was cold to begin with. For, if it was a normal chill he had taken would he not have been warmed by this point?

Gimli lit his pipe before sitting back in his chair further. Éowyn looked lost for something to do that would help but before Gimli could offer any sort of advice, the door opened and their two smallest friends hurried in followed by a few ladies carrying trays with heaps of food upon them. The redheaded Dwarf nearly winced but managed not to. He’d known what he was in for when he’d asked for Hobbits to get food. Once the ladies deposited the trays on the table Gimli was sitting beside they hurried out. “Has he gotten any better?” Pippin asked, glancing at Legolas.

“We’ve just got him settled,” Éowyn answered. “This is some malady I’ve never seen before. We will have to wait for Elven assistance.”

“I told you, Pip,” Merry murmured. “But don’t worry. Lord Elrond will know what to do.”

“Aye, he will,” Gimli agreed as he reached for one of the trays. He had been so worried for Legolas he hadn’t paused to eat during his search. Something his stomach was regretting sorely now that he’d gotten the Elf back to Helm’s Deep. “Don’t you worry about Legolas, Pippin. He’s quite hardy for an Elf.”

Pippin attempted a smile but it was a weak one. Too weak for Merry obviously who grabbed a tankard and some bottle they’d brought and quickly filled it. He all but thrust the drink into Pippin’s hands. “Come on, Pip. Now that we’ve found him we just have to get him better. The hard part’s over!” he announced, rather too optimistically probably. Gimli wasn’t about to contradict him though. Not when that announcement managed to get Pippin to smile a bit more genuinely.

“I think I’ll go check with the other healers we have here at Helm’s Deep. Perhaps one of them know what ails, Master Legolas. They are all more experienced than I,” Éowyn said as she adjusted the quilts on the bed one last time. “But even if they haven’t they may have some idea as to what we might do for him.”

Gimli nodded, it was a good idea even if he didn’t think it would amount to much. “We’ll stay here with him, Éowyn. We’ll send someone for you if anything changes, don’t worry.”

She gave him a beautiful thankful smile before excusing herself. Gimli saluted her slightly with his pipe as she left and then turned his attention back to what he was doing. He kept watch over Legolas for any change even as he nibbled absently on the mountain of food Merry and Pippin had brought. The Hobbits were making more of a dent in it but that was to be expected really. They were Hobbits.

Every once and a while Gimli would interject a comment to their conversation, which he noted stayed far away from Legolas and whatever was wrong with him. Gimli wasn’t sure but he had the distinct feeling it would only make the two of his friends more worried if they were to bring the Elf up in conversation. Gimli blew a smoke ring into the open air in front of him. Maybe the Hobbits were onto something. Staring at the Elf certainly wasn’t easing Gimli’s worry but he couldn’t quite make himself stop either. Any improvement would be a welcome one. Even if it was just something as small as Legolas twitching or his eyes not looking as grey as they now did.

Eventually, the Hobbits reluctantly went to bed but Gimli stayed behind. Perhaps it was because he did stay behind that Merry and Pippin agreed to go to their room in the first place. A servant came in and lit the fireplace at some point and Gimli managed to tear his eyes away from the still not glowing Elf to stare instead at the fire. He refilled his pipe periodically as he was forced, yet again, to wait. He cursed mentally. He hated being unable to do anything.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite as long as I wanted it to be but I was having a hard time finding a balance between caring daddy!Thranduil and haughty king!Thranduil. Let me know if I succeeded as I've never tried writing Thranduil before despite how I like stories involving him.

Gimli scowled beneath his beard. Two weeks. Two Mahal-damned weeks and there wasn’t even one speck of improvement from Legolas. He was still laying there unmoving, cold as death, and staring at nothing where they’d put him on his bed. Elrond hadn’t been able to come immediately so there had been quite a bit more time spent waiting than anyone liked. 

When he finally _had_ arrived he’d been escorted straight to Legolas’ room. Though Gimli wasn’t by any stretch of imagination an Elf, he considered himself fairly adept at reading Elf expressions. He knew the look of ‘this is bad’ when he saw it and he’d seen it quite clearly when Elrond had first spotted Legolas. It was in every fiber of the older Elf’s posture and clearly visible in his eyes. Eyes always seemed to be the most telling for Elves in Gimli’s experience and Elrond was no different. He had not liked what he saw.

The Elf Lord had run off to write letters almost immediately and completely ignored Gimli’s very polite –for a Dwarf- questions. But now, Elrond had returned and still looked grim. “What’s wrong with him?” Gimli asked as he mentally debated the virtues of breaking the door so that the Lord Elrond couldn’t escape this time. He was getting his answers. One way or another.

Elrond sighed ever so slightly and went to stand beside Legolas. “He is Fading,” he answered as he put a hand on Legolas’ forehead. He murmured something Elvish that Gimli had absolutely no hope of translating. Gimli wasn’t sure if it was just his hope getting caught up in everything but he swore that Legolas’ nearly translucently pale skin had grown the slightest shade healthier.

“Isn’t Fading what ya go ta the West ta stop?” Gimli asked, knowing that Elrond would hear him despite still muttering Elvish nonsense.

The Lord of Rivendell took his time to finish whatever he was saying before turning to face Gimli again. “It is, but there are several reasons why an Elf could Fade and I am not sure why Legolas is Fading or why it is happening so quickly. I have heard you took the Sea Road during your quest. Sea Longing is a typical source of Fading but never before have I heard it come upon one so quickly. Whatever the cause, Legolas is very weak I sincerely doubt he’d be able to survive a trip to the West in his current state. If he is to survive we must try to strengthen him here,” Elrond explained.

“An’ how do we do that?” Gimli demanded.

Elrond raised an eyebrow. “We must give him a reason to not Fade. Fading is, in essence, a matter of will. For whatever reason, Legolas’ will has faltered. Unless we can get him to wish to live, he will not. Tell me, Gimli, son of Glóin, do you know of any reason why Legolas would suddenly falter in such a way?”

Gimli shook his head. “No. He was actin’ strange a few days before he went missing but he wouldn’t tell me what was bothering him. Been tryin’ ta find out but haven’t had much luck.”

The Elf Lord nodded. “Then we shall have to do our best until Thranduil arrives.”

Gimli’s head snapped up. “The Woodland King?” he echoed.

“He is Legolas’ Father,” Elrond pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“Ah, I know tha’ but…” Gimli had honestly _misplaced_ that bit of information about his friend over the months of traveling. It was easier to forget than Gimli would have thought. “I’ve never heard of him going so far from his woods before,” Gimli finished somewhat awkwardly.

Elrond inclined his head slightly. “True, he does not enjoy leaving if he can help it. But Thranduil, for all his faults, cares deeply for his sons. I wrote to him as soon as I saw Legolas’ condition and I imagine he will be here within the next few days. I am not certain how well I can reach Legolas. Thranduil should have better luck than I.”

Gimli wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about that. On one hand it was good to know that the King of the Woodland Realm wasn’t as cold as stories said. On the other hand Gimli wasn’t sure how smart it was to bring the Elf here where there were so many Dwarves. But, Gimli thought as he turned his attention back to the unmoving Prince, if Thranduil could bring Legolas back from wherever he had gone Gimli would gladly handle any fall out caused by culture clash.

The Dwarf watched as Elrond began murmuring to Legolas in Elvish again. It only took another few moments before Gimli got up and silently left the room. He couldn’t stand doing nothing. With Elrond watching over Legolas for the time being, he was going to go and find out what had caused this in the first place. 

Helm’s Deep was still populated mostly by men though quite a few Dwarves had joined Gimli here to start planning the colony he wanted to build. It had actually happened surprisingly quickly. Far more quickly than Gimli had anticipated. He’d thought he’d have more time to explore the caves before he’d launch into anything like building a whole colony of his people. He hadn’t at all enjoyed putting off his plans with Legolas to be Lordly. But now he was going to use whatever his new title could get him in order to help the Elf.

Gimli found who he could of the Dwarves that had joined him in Helm’s Deep and questioned each of them about what happened at the party. They were obscenely unhelpful. Not a single one of them had taken much note of Legolas other than to verify that he was indeed there. More than one of them had agreed that he’d been talking with mostly the men and Gimli and drinking the beer that everyone had been partaking of quite heavily. But after that, all of the Dwarves had decidedly ignored the Elf Prince. 

Gimli wasn’t really surprised at that but he was still annoyed by it. Even he could remember that part of the party. It had been early on and Legolas had indeed been perfectly fine. No, Gimli was more interested in the latter half of the party where everyone had polished off far too many drinks. That party had gotten out of hand, as evident by the broken tables that had been discovered the next morning, and his memory of it was distinctly hazy. He could remember singing some particularly bawdy songs and being all but carried to his bed before passing out but that was about it. Well, he remembered a few more things if he pressed hard such as clear blue eyes that seemed to shimmer from the clearest diamond to vibrant aquamarines only to shift to the greener side of the spectrum nearer to tourmaline and then back again towards blue topaz.

With an annoyed noise, Gimli shook his head. There he went waxing all poetic again like an Elf. He thought he’d curbed that habit. Apparently not. He recognized the eyes in his drunken memory, of course. He’d spent long enough maddened at the fact that he couldn’t actually classify their color to his satisfaction. He didn’t even know why what color Legolas’ eyes were was so important to know. It just was. Like a gemstone that he had to identify and changed every time he thought he knew what it was. Like everything about the Elf it was infuriating.

Bringing his attention back to the matter at hand, Gimli began to search out some of the men who might have been slightly more sober and able to remember what had happened that night. A few of them he even vaguely recalled speaking to Legolas so perhaps they would know something of use. 

One of the men actually was rather helpful. He remembered that the tables had been broken when too many Dwarves had decided to ‘test the strength’ of the wood. Dwarves in full armor were heavy. Multiple Dwarves in full armor hopping on top of tables was sure to break a few of said tables. Gimli was bewildered he’d somehow managed to forget _that_ of all things.

“What of Legolas?” Gimli asked after shaking off the mental image. “Did ya notice anythin’ about him?”

The man frowned a little as he thought hard. “He was a little off. Didn’t dance at all. But he seemed fine other than that. Dragged you off to bed and that was the last I remember seeing of him.”

Gimli nodded and said his thanks before moving on. Legolas not dancing was a little strange but not so alarming. There had been plenty of parties where Legolas had been too preoccupied to dance. Not that Gimli took special note of when Legolas danced or not. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

Gimli took as long as he dared to ask as many people as he could about what had happened during the party that he was certain had led to this situation. He only found out a little bit more, none of which had been terribly helpful. A few men reported hearing the other Dwarves grumbling about Legolas and, while distressing to hear, was not that surprising. It did mean that if the men had heard it Legolas most definitely had but judging from what the men reported hearing it was nothing that the Elf had not heard before. Old bitterness died hard and both Gimli and Legolas were well aware of that despite how they had managed to overcome it themselves. It was unlikely hearing sour words about Elves from drunken Dwarves would have driven Legolas to the state he was in currently.

Still, Gimli made a mental note to remind his kin that he wouldn’t tolerate the old prejudices being voiced so openly. They would do nothing but cause problems that had already gone on for far too long. The Elves could be cold and distant but the Dwarves own faults had done very little to endear them to the other races. Especially after the entire Arkenstone situation.

Not wanting to leave Legolas out of his watch for very long and having run out of people to question, Gimli decided to hunt down his two small friends for help. He found them outside on the wall smoking their pipes with empty plates near them saying they’d just finished one of the many meals Hobbits were so fond of. “Gimli!” Pippin exclaimed as soon as he saw the Dwarf. “Is everything alright?”

“Nothing’s happened to Legolas has it?” Merry asked with worry.

“No, nothing’s happened,” Gimli assured them, though that was part of the problem. “Lord Elrond is with him trying to wake him up.”

“Well, that’s good then,” Pippin announced. “Legolas’ll be better in no time.”

Gimli nodded but more out of reflex than any true agreement. Merry seemed to catch on to Gimli’s lack of enthusiasm. “Has Lord Elrond found what’s wrong with him, Gimli?”

There was a pause as Gimli tried to think of a way to phrase it delicately. He quickly found there was no such thing. “He’s Fading.” He hated saying it so bluntly but there wasn’t really a way around it. But perhaps it was best. Merry and Pippin had been through Wars and were tougher than they seemed. They deserved to know the truth of the situation. “Lord Elrond says if we can’t figure why he is, he prob’bly won’t survive,” he added in a softer tone.

The Dwarf didn’t dare look at the two Hobbits. He could just imagine the look of horror on their faces. It had been terrible when they’d lost Gandalf even if he had come back to them. Then they’d lost Boromir and nearly Sam and Frodo. To lose Legolas after the fact to something like Fading seemed too horrible. 

“So… if we find out what happened to him, he’ll be alright?” Pippin asked.

Gimli nodded. “Aye. There was a party a few days before Legolas wandered off. Somethin’ happened at or just after it, I think. I’ve been trying to find out what happened but nobody I ask says they saw anythin’ unusual ‘bout the Elf,” he explained without looking at them. It was far easier to fix his gaze on the horizon as if the answer was somehow to be found there. “I don’t have time ta ask everyone. I was hoping you lads would help.”

“Of course we will!” Merry said instantly. 

Pippin nodded so enthusiastically Gimli could see his curls bouncing even without looking away from the horizon. “Definitely. You can count on us!”

“Aye, I know I can, Lads,” Gimli agreed. “King Thranduil is said ta be comin’. Anythin’ we can tell him when he gets here would help.”

The two Hobbits’ eyes widened some at the mention of the Woodland King. Gimli wasn’t entirely sure that Merry and Pippin would know who Thranduil was as he couldn’t recall Legolas ever really talking about his family on their quest but they seemed to understand the gravity of the statement. Perhaps they were simply smart enough to piece together that Legolas was a Prince and if a King was coming to his sickbed it was most likely his Father. Of course, they had no real way of knowing how aloof Thranduil could be.

“We won’t let you down,” Merry assured his Dwarven friend.

Gimli thanked them again before excusing himself to go back to Legolas’ room. Elrond was still there murmuring to Legolas in Elvish. Gimli couldn’t help but think of a time long past. It was so painfully easy, despite the physical differences, to replace Legolas with Kíli and Elrond with Thorin. They had been scared for the younger prince. He’d fallen into a river in the dead of winter and Dwarves were not known for their swimming abilities. He’d pulled through without any ill effects but for a seemingly endless stretch there was nothing but fear that he would never wake up. Thorin had sat by the bed and murmured to Kíli for hours upon hours until he finally came around. Gimli prayed for an equally good outcome this time. But this was not a near drowning. And Gimli had no idea the odds of his dear friend recovering from this.

The Dwarven Lord sat down in the chair he’d left earlier and pulled his pipe back out. He had to think of some other way to find out what had happened with Legolas and he would think better with a smoke. 

Two days later there still had been frustratingly little progress in finding out what had disturbed Legolas. Though, Elrond had provided an interesting clue when he told Gimli that he could hear talking from another room. Gimli had searched the whole room after that and found that there was a spyhole hidden behind a painting on the wall by the fireplace. He had no idea men could be so paranoid as to want to spy on one another and it was a little unsettling to know that it was there. Especially since, if not for the painting in the way, it would have a fairly uninterrupted view of the entire room including the bed. Gimli wondered if the peephole had something to do with Legolas’ condition but as far as he knew that painting had always been there and he couldn’t imagine Legolas moving it for any reason.

But, then again, if Elrond had heard talking through it there was no reason that Legolas couldn’t have heard talking through it as well. It really didn’t help Gimli narrow down what could have upset Legolas but he made a note to find out who was roomed beside the sick Elf as soon as he could.

He stuffed a cork into the peephole for his own peace of mind. Just as he was replacing the painting on the wall there was a knock on the door. “Yes?” Gimli called as he turned away from the wall.

Éowyn opened the door and instantly looked to the bed. She sighed a little when she saw virtually no improvement from the Elf Prince. When she turned to face Gimli she tried for a smile despite how strained it was. “There is a company of Elves approaching led by one on a white stag.”

Gimli couldn’t quite stop himself from stiffening. He had never personally met Thranduil and he rather wished that this first meeting had been prompted by something other than Legolas’ upsetting condition. Éowyn seemed to see his discomfort and moved to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m certain he will be glad you have been here for Legolas,” she said kindly. “And that you have tried so hard to find the cause of his ailment.”

“How large is this ‘company’ he’s brought?” Gimli asked. Elrond had brought a few Elves with him to Helm’s Deep but they were mostly healers who had all tried their hand at bringing Legolas around with utterly no success. Gimli wasn’t at all convinced that Thranduil would have brought just healers with him.

“Our lookouts spotted a dozen,” Éowyn supplied. “A small group. He is not here to cause trouble, Gimli. Only to help his son.” 

He truly hoped that was the case. He didn’t want to have to kill his best friend’s Father in self-defense. That would very definitely cause racial relation problems. Not to mention Legolas would most certainly not like it when he finally woke up from this state he was in. Because he would wake up. Gimli would ensure it even if he had to beat the Elf senseless so that he could beat better sense into him. Elrond probably wouldn’t be keen on letting Gimli try that… best leave that as a last resort solution.

Éowyn promised to stay by Legolas’ side so that Gimli, as Lord of the colony that was being built, could do his duty and greet the Elf King. Gimli was not particularly looking forward to it but he hoped that Elrond and Éowyn were right and Thranduil would be too concerned with Legolas to start problems.

When Gimli arrived at the front of Helm’s Deep, Thranduil had already arrived and was dismounting his unique steed. The stag’s antlers rose above the other men and Elves nearby and its large eyes seemed to have more intelligence than was truly normal for any beast.

Thranduil himself was wearing simple robes and a silver circlet opposed to his crown of twigs and berries. The finely wrought lines of metal were very reminiscent of the circlet that Legolas had worn to Aragorn’s coronation. The Woodland King’s cold eyes swept across the gathering before finding Lord Elrond standing beside Gimli. Thranduil crossed the distance in what seemed to be only two steps. The two Elves exchanged the briefest greeting Gimli had ever witnessed in Elvish before Thranduil asked about why he had come. “Where is my son?”

Gimli gestured, drawing the Elven King’s eyes instantly. “I’ll take you to his room, King Thranduil,” he said. 

Icy blue eyes studied Gimli for a moment and seemed to flash almost dangerously before the Elf nodded. Gimli was slightly relieved that Thranduil seemed far too concerned over Legolas to worry about Dwarves and quickly led the way through Helm’s Deep. Elrond kept pace beside Thranduil and was telling the Woodland King something in Elvish. Gimli didn’t think he was explaining things particularly calmly as he couldn’t recall Elvish flowing that quickly before.

There was a pause in the stream of Elvish and Gimli glanced behind him to see that Thranduil had his cold eyes fixed directly on him. Thranduil didn’t seem upset to have been caught staring. Instead he simply inclined his head slightly. “You are the one that found my son?”

“Aye,” Gimli confirmed as he continued to walk as fast as he could without breaking into an obvious run.

There was another pause, longer than the first. “Then I thank you, Gimli son of Glóin.” Thranduil didn’t sound entirely comfortable saying it but Gimli was more surprised he’d done it in the first place.

“I didn’ do it for thanks. I did it because the lad’s a dear friend,” Gimli said as he opened the door to Legolas’ room.

Thranduil’s eyebrow rose slightly at Gimli’s response but his attention was quickly diverted by the opened door. It wasn’t hard to spot Legolas lying in bed and Thranduil did in an instant. There was a small but harsh intake of breath and the Elven King strode across the room to Legolas’ bedside. His eyes scanned Legolas’ pale body before settling on his son’s face. Thranduil’s hands hesitated for a moment as he took in every faded feature. 

Gimli was uncomfortable to see how unguarded the King suddenly was. His eyes were stricken with worry and he seemed unsure what to do. It was a very different image than the one he’d always heard about the Woodland King. 

After a tense moment, Thranduil gently put one hand to his son’s brow. “Legolas… _Ionneg_ …”

The lack of response seemed even heavier now and Gimli almost felt as if he were suddenly intruding. Clearly Éowyn thought the same as she silently excused herself from the room. Gimli stepped to the side to allow her through even as he watched Legolas’ legendarily cold father murmur in Elvish and brush Legolas’ hair back with one hand.

“This is more than a few days fading! How is he like this?” Thranduil asked in a harsh whisper though he didn’t look away from Legolas for a moment. His hand gently brushed over the side of Legolas’ passive face and then his hair. “What has happened to my son, Elrond?”

“We are not certain,” Lord Elrond said as he took a few steps closer. He didn’t come too close though. He was certain to give Thranduil plenty of room should he need it. “We are still searching for the cause.”

“Find it quickly,” Thranduil ordered in a voice that was very much not calm and collected. Gimli swore he heard a break threatening to disrupt the King’s voice under the harshness.

Gimli took a few steps forward and got the briefest of glances from the Elf King. “I swear we’re doin’ everything we can ta find out what happened,” he said. Thranduil looked over at him again but this time his gaze lingered for a moment. Gimli could virtually feel the worry and anguish coming through the King’s eyes alone. His stare, which could be so frigid, was now practically burning with different emotions. “We’ll find what happened an’ we’ll bring him back.”

Thranduil studied Gimli for a moment before taking a slow breath. His eyes went colder and more controlled and he seemed to become taller and more poised like when he had first entered the keep. “See that you do,” he decreed. His kingly tone shook only slightly and Gimli did his best to ignore that. Instead, he just nodded and resolved to find the answers he needed even sooner.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a bit longer than I had thought to get this out. Mostly because I wasn't sure how to start the chapter. But I'm fairly happy with how it turned out in the end.

Thranduil never left Legolas’ side. His Elves brought anything he needed up to him but he spent every moment beside his son. Gimli was more moved by it than he thought he’d be. Of course, Thranduil would be worried. Gimli had anticipated that. But he hadn’t anticipated the Elven King staying by Legolas’ sick bed day and night just speaking in Elvish and holding his son’s hand. 

Through Thranduil and Elrond’s combined efforts Legolas’ color slowly began to improve. He didn’t seem quite as ashen and worn down as he had before. He was still pale and distant but he was better. Gimli was very glad for it and was determined to take the chance he’d been given to find out the true reason Legolas was Fading. 

Merry and Pippin reported back regularly with whatever they had found. Even Éowyn had been a great help. She’d found out quite easily who had been roomed beside the Woodland Prince: a pair of Dwarves from Erebor that had come to see the beauty of the caves. Merry and Pippin were the ones that found them first. The two Hobbits had cornered the two dark haired Dwarves between a corner and a decorative statue.

The Dwarves were rather surprised at the tenacity showing on the halfings’ faces. “You have the room beside Legolas’ don’t you?” Pippin asked without the slightest hint of preamble. He’d never been the most tactful of Hobbits and his worry for his friend was making him even less so.

The slightly older looking Dwarf looked confused but nodded. “The Elf Prince? Aye, he’s in the room next to ours. Causin’ all sorts of ruckus now too that he’s fallen ill,” he said.

“Do you remember anything happening on the night of the party?” Merry asked them before Pippin could do something rash or say something that he didn’t think through. It wouldn’t help if they somehow offended the Dwarves. Though Merry was pretty certain Gimli would smooth anything over it would make it hard to get the answers they wanted.

The two Dwarves thought back and slowly shook their head. “Nothing unusual,” the younger Dwarf said. “Bloody Elf kept us up for a while singing or whatever that wailing passes as…”

The Hobbits exchanged a glance. Legolas singing was terribly unhelpful. He sung quite a bit after all. “What about on the day he went missing?” Merry asked taking a step closer. “Did anything unusual happen then that you remember?”

“No, nothing,” the Dwarves said. “We saw him at dinner, we guessed he was going to his room, and we didn’t see him after that until Lord Gimli brought him back.”

“What were you talking about that night?” Pippin asked.

That question brought the Dwarves up short and they looked utterly confused. “What does that have to do with anything?” the younger asked suspiciously.

“There’s a crack between the two rooms,” Merry explained. “The Elves can hear you talking from Legolas’ room.”

“Did you say something to upset Legolas?” Pippin asked, a somewhat fierce look in his eyes.

The Dwarves looked rather horrified at the knowledge that the Elves could hear them talking in their own rooms but the older Dwarf managed to shake that off with a scoff. “Why would we say anything about the Elf at all?” he asked. “We weren’t saying anything that would have upset him.”

“Well, what were you talking about?” Merry asked insistently. The Dwarves frowned and looked perfectly ready to fall back to their usual secretive ways. “Lord Gimli asked us to make sure that you didn’t say anything to upset Legolas. We can’t know that unless you tell us what you were talking about.”

It was a bit of a stretch on what Gimli had actually asked them to find out but Merry considered the stretch well worth it. The Dwarves looked visibly uncomfortable but then huffed and relented. “We were only talking about our people’s future,” the older said.

“Lord Gimli starting a colony here is unexpected but welcomed. He’ll need a strong wife to stand beside him as we build it,” the younger added. “We were only trying to figure who he would pursue. I think Talrin has the best chance. Lord Gimli’s always said she has a beautiful beard… and it truly is.”

“Talrin is beautiful, aye,” the older said sounding somewhat annoyed. “But she’s nothing compared to Runil. Her skill with stone is magnificent. Lord Gimli’s complimented it dozens of times.” 

The Hobbits exchanged a looked of confusion. Was that really what the Dwarves had been talking about? It seemed likely as the two of them quickly devolved into an argument about the matter now that it had been brought up. Even going so far as to list supposed instances where Gimli had shown either Dwarrowdam favor in some way. The lists were long and the Hobbits got the impression they were soundly forgotten about in favor of the argument. 

They decided that there wasn’t much more they could find out from the Dwarves and slipped away to hurry back up to Gimli. Seeing as how Legolas was still entirely bedridden, it wasn’t hard to find where their Dwarven friend was. It only took their short legs a few minutes to carry them up to Legolas’ room to relate the very unhelpful news.

Gimli frowned when the two Hobbits related what his people had been arguing about. It was hardly the first time he’d heard the rumors about that but there should have been nothing in that to agitate Legolas at all. “You’re sure that’s all they were talking about?” he asked.

Pippin nodded. “They started arguing about it right there. They didn’t even know they could be heard from their room.”

Gimli sighed but after a few more words with Pippin and Merry the two Hobbits left with the promise to keep looking into things. “That doesn’t make sense,” Gimli muttered as he studied the impassive Elf Prince.

“You think that they lie?” Thranduil asked softly. Almost too softly for Gimli to hear but he did hear. 

“No,” Gimli answered instantly. “It just doesn’t make sense that talk about me would do this to Legolas.”

Thranduil hummed a little but didn’t respond to that. Instead he seemed to turn his attention back to Legolas. He leaned closer to the younger Elf and murmured something that Gimli couldn’t hear, not that Gimli would have understood it in the first place.

After a little while of thinking with frustratingly little progress, Gimli felt the need to do something. So, he muttered some excuse before slipping out of Legolas’ room. He wandered through Helm’s Deep aimlessly and checked on things that didn’t really need his attention. It made him feel better to be up and moving rather that just waiting for some improvement to happen. An improvement that wasn’t happening.

He realized that Elrond and Thranduil probably were hoping he didn’t notice but Gimli did realize the small improvement in Legolas’ condition had halted and even reversed. The impossible luster of the Elves had completely evaporated again and though he still looked as young and perfect as ever he seemed more like a statue than a living being. A statue that was technically perfect but lacked any sort of life or animation to it. There was no fire of true artistry and Gimli had never thought of Legolas as lacking fire before. It was a disturbing thought.

Without really thinking about it, Gimli made his way to the stables. He’d taken a very un-Dwarven habit of visiting the blasted horse routinely. But it was oddly comforting to just tend to Arod like he’d seen Legolas doing so many times. Maybe that was why he did it? They repetitive motion of brushing out his coat was almost meditative at times.

“Gloin’s son, I would speak with you,” a somewhat aloof voice said from the entrance to the stables.

Gimli turned and looked over. Sure enough, the voice belonged to the Elf King himself. It was odd to see him not by Legolas’ side and the Dwarf could not help but wonder what could have been so terribly important that it would cause Thranduil to leave it. Still, Gimli knew better than to ignore the presence of a King, even one that he had been told far from flattering tales of. So, he did what he should and gave a slight bow. “At your service, King Thranduil. Is there something I can help you with?”

Thranduil studied Gimli with frosty blue eyes. “That remains to be seen yet,” he said before fully entering the stable. A dark eyebrow shot upwards at the sight of Gimli brushing Arod but he said nothing. Instead, he went to where his own kingly mount was standing in a particularly wide stall to accommodate its massive antlered head. His thin hand brushed over the beast’s velvet muzzle and he murmured to it in Elvish. Much like his son would do with Arod. Gimli tried his best to be patient. For, as many had insisted on telling him, Elves had ages to learn patience and all of them were frustratingly good at taking their time with things.

After several moments, Thranduil switched from Elvish to Westron. “I have seen what is happening with my son happen before,” he said, just loud enough for Gimli’s ears to make out.

“So you know how to fix him then?” Gimli asked, unable to be incredibly happy at that thought and somewhat annoyed that Thranduil wasn’t up in his son’s room doing whatever Elvish hocus pocus he needed to.

“I cannot ‘fix him’, Master Dwarf,” Thranduil said and Gimli swore if he wasn’t talking to the icy Elf King he’d have heard a sorrowful crack and a tear in his voice. “The last to suffer in this way… she had to go West. It did not befall her as quickly as it has my son and we were able to arrange for her a boat.”

Gimli wasn’t sure what to say to that but luckily he didn’t seem to need to say anything for Thranduil continued, “She was a Captain of my guard. A very good one. Legolas was quite fond of her and for a time I feared that he may have grown too attached. He is my youngest son and ever I worry for his happiness and well-being. I did not believe he would find it with her. My fears, it seems, were misplaced for she fell deeply and truly in love with another. A Dwarf at that.”

Gimli wasn’t quite sure what to say about that. He had a feeling he’d heard this story before though with a rather different tinge upon it. “When he died she spent some time here but eventually the grief simply became too much and she left. I know to lose the one you love so dearly is… terribly painful. I myself have struggled with it. Legolas was very young indeed when last he saw his mother,” Thranduil paused there and glanced over his shoulder at Gimli, who was still petting Arod awkwardly. This was all information he wasn’t entirely sure he should know. “Long have I desired to go West but I stay. My older sons do not need me any longer but Legolas did as do my people. It is their health and happiness that brings me the strength to continue. I tell you this because I want you to understand what I say next Master Dwarf.

“If what the young Hobbits say is true, and I agree with your assessment that Hobbits as a general rule are fairly trustworthy, then my son’s sharp decline comes from what your kin said about you,” Thranduil stated matter-of-factly.

“Wh-“

Thranduil held up his hand to silence Gimli before he could even finish his protest. “Son of Gloin I do not pretend to understand my son’s mind or heart. But neither do I make a habit of blinding myself to what is obvious. My son is suffering the loss of his love and death is not the only way to lose it. Losing you to another would be just as devastating.”

“B-but that’s ridiculous!”

Thranduil turned fully then. “Why?”

Gimli froze, not having expected that sort of a question from the haughty Elf King. “What do you mean why?”

“Why is it so ridiculous? Do you not believe my son capable of loving another so truly?” Thranduil asked in a rather dangerous tone.

“I said no such thing!” Gimli said in outrage. “Don’t put words in my mouth! He just would never love me!”

Thranduil gave a casual yet elegant move of his head and shoulder in what might have been a shrug if Elves were prone to such motions. “No?” Thranduil was quiet for a moment and reached a hand out to his mount to pet its soft fur. “Did you know he wrote to me about you?” Thranduil asked, though he obviously already knew the answer. “I couldn’t fathom why he was writing to me about the Dwarf he had been traveling with or indeed why he seemed to think you worthy of the title friend.”

Gimli couldn’t help but bristle at that but managed to hold his protest so that the Elf King could continue. “It was shortly before the coronation in Minas Tirith. That is what he supposedly wrote to tell me about. But it took him a mere three sentences to devolve to speaking about you. Apparently, he simply could not wait to tell me all he had learned of Dwarves over your journey. I thought him on one of his fancies. He has them from time to time. But now I find him like this. It is far more than a fancy, Son of Gloin.” Then Thranduil took a few steps closer and Gimli was forced to look up at him. “He does love you, Master Dwarf. I do not understand it but I see it. I know that, simply because he loves you, does not mean you return it. But if you find you do… I beg of you to see to my son. If you can stop him from Fading from this world. I do not care if you are Elf, man, Hobbit, or even indeed a Dwarf. He is far too precious to me to lose in such a way. I can do nothing more than leave this in your hands,” he said before walking past and out of the stables.

Gimli was awestruck. Not just because it was the closest he’d ever been to Legolas’ admitted impressive father, but because of the King’s believe that Legolas had feelings for him and that he had actually begged of a Dwarf anything at all. It was contrary to everything Gimli had ever been told of the ancient King. And… well, it couldn’t be true could it? Legolas was an Elven Prince with no cause to find anything worth loving in a Dwarf. True, there had been Elves that found their love with mortals. Arwen being the most immediate example. But never had one, to Gimli’s knowledge, claimed their love to be of Durin’s Folk. It just seemed impossible to him. He would have noticed if Legolas felt such a way. Wouldn’t he? How would he miss something such as that?


	5. Chapter Five

Gimli spent what felt like hours in the stables just brushing the same spot on Arod’s hide without really any thought. His mind was soundly on what Thranduil had told him. It was still spinning around his head like a violent whirlwind. Looking back, he supposed he could see some oddities in the way Legolas behaved. He had written it off as Elven foolishness or perhaps results of the strange but very comforting friendship they had developed while fighting a war. But still, as Gimli looked back, it was odd that the Elf Prince would stay by a dwarf’s side over a group of men, whom he was bound to have at least a little more in common with.

Had Legolas really been by Gimli’s side for more than just care for a comrade? Gimli hadn’t thought so and yet he knew that it was always Legolas that carried him to bed after a party. It wasn’t often that he drank himself that far under the table but there had been times definitely. The drinking contest and the most recent feast instantly came to mind as times when the surprisingly strong Elf had taken care of his drunken arse.

Gimli paused in his brushing of Arod’s withers. A sudden thought came to him and it made him somewhat wary. He could vaguely recall Legolas being in the room when he hit the mattress, but the memory was too hazy from drinking to remember clearly. What if, and this really bothered him, what if he had done something to bother Legolas as well? 

The Dwarf Lord suddenly felt very uneasy and left the stables. He wished he could remember what happened. He wouldn’t want to have hurt his dear friend in any way. 

He found himself sitting on the wall of Helm’s Deep as the sun rose and smoked his pipe as he did his best to remember what had happened fully. He wouldn’t have even thought that something had happened before this, but the entire situation was making him question everything that had happened between himself and Legolas. He watched the sun rise silently and all of Helm’s Deep come to life along with it. Most people didn’t have time or cause to wonder about the state of an Elf Prince or what put him in said state. Gimli, however, could think of nothing else.

At midday, Éowyn came with a plate of food and a tankard full of what was probably ale. “You have been staring at nothing all morning, my friend,” she said as she put the meal down beside the concerned Dwarf.

Gimli grunted around his pipe before managing to drag his attention over to Éowyn. “King Thranduil said something to me that I’ve been thinking about,” he said before reaching for the tankard.

“About Legolas?”

Gimli nodded. “He thinks the daft Princeling is in love with me,” he muttered, still frowning at the very idea.

“Oh, well, of course, he is,” Éowyn said, causing Gimli to look over at her sharply. She looked surprised by Gimli’s surprise. “You mean you did not realize?” The fiery haired Dwarf shook his head. Éowyn was silent for a moment before taking a seat beside Gimli. “It is something we often spoke of. Well, he did not speak of his love for you but it was obvious in what he did not say.”

“What do you mean?” Gimli asked, very interested now in what Éowyn apparently thought was obvious.

“When a friend listens to your heartache with understanding and without judgment it is because they themselves have felt it as well,” she explained. “Legolas has always listened to me in such a way. It didn’t take very long for me to realize that the one his heart ached for was you. The way his eyes follow you and how he stays by your side is very telling.”

Gimli wasn’t sure how that was telling at all. They were fighting comrades; of course they stayed near each other. Why were Thranduil and Éowyn certain that it meant love? “You don’t believe me?” Éowyn asked.

“It’s just hard to think that he would feel like that about me,” he said. “He is a dear friend and I am sure that he feels the same about that. But love is… love is something more that I can’t be sure he truly feels.”

Éowyn smiled slightly. “I understand,” she said. “If I thought the one I loved could never love me back and was suddenly told he did, I would be somewhat wary to believe it as well.”

Gimli gave a start and nearly jumped out of his seat. “Tha-I-Wh-”

The Shieldmaiden laughed and put a hand on Gimli’s shoulder. “Calm yourself, my friend. I meant no harm,” she said with a smile. “But it is quite obvious you hold Legolas in very high regard. The way you defend him to your fellow Dwarves for instance.”

“He has proven his worth and doesn’t deserve to be slighted,” Gimli grumbled by way of explanation.

“Oh, I agree. And I find your defense of him to be very sweet. I think it may be why he feels so strongly for you,” she said. “But, I don’t think you realize how much sway you have over our Elven friend.” Gimli raised an eyebrow and Éowyn realize that she was right and he hadn’t realized. “You are the only one who I have seen that can call Legolas to you from anywhere on the field of battle. It is not Lord Aragorn he runs to or fights back to back with. It is you.”

Gimli frowned at that assessment. “He does not run to my side…” he murmured though even as he said that he could remember several instances where they had invariably ended up fighting side by side together over several battles. He hadn’t put much thought into it. He fought along side, many people. But had Legolas done that on purpose. Gimli glanced up at Éowyn. “You truly believe he feels this way?”

She gave him a kind smile. “My friend, his own father believes it and he has not seen the two of you together as I have. I truly believe he loves you very much, Gimli. Now, I will leave you to your meal,” she said as she got up from her seat to go back inside the keep.

Gimli spent the rest of the day pondering what he had heard from Éowyn and Thranduil. It was hard to say that both of them could be wrong. Especially since Éowyn had traveled with them all the way from Edoras to Helm’s Deep back during the war. So, all that was really left was to come to terms with his own thoughts and feelings about it.

It took him the rest of the day to finally come to a decision. The sun was setting when he made his way to Legolas’ room. The only one inside was Thranduil himself. The Elf King stood when Gimli entered and there were a few very tense minutes of silence. “I have lost many things I treasure to Dwarves in the past. Are you going to now take what I treasure most?”

“No… but I don’t know what to do,” Gimli muttered.

Thranduil studied the Dwarf for a moment before inclining his head towards the bed his son was lying on. “Speak to him, do what you think will make him respond to you, call him back to you. There is no right way to do it.”

That wasn’t much to go on at all and Gimli had rather been hoping for some more advice than that. “And you’re sure I can reach him?” he asked.

The King tilted his head a little and Gimli was almost certain that his frosty blue eyes softened slightly. “You are the only one who can, Master Dwarf.” He looked back at Legolas for a moment before leaving the room without another word. 

Gimli suppressed a groan of discomfort that came from not knowing what to do or say. Still, he walked over to the bed and stood by his dear friend for several minutes. “Your father’s still a bit… Elf-ish for me, Lad,” he muttered. That was really the only word he could use to describe the Elf King. Distinctly Elf-ish in all the ways the older Dwarves complained about. Although Gimli now knew that there was more to the King than he first thought he still had that Elven haughty aura about him.

“Talk to you, he said. What the devil am I supposed to bloody well talk about?” Gimli harrumphed. “Like I know what would bring you back to us. I didn’t even know that ya’d go off to that forest. The stupid horse is the one that went there to find you.”

His eyes wandered from the bedsheet he was staring at to Legolas’ face. He was still staring in that distant way that was their sleep and didn’t even seem to notice Gimli was there. His skin was nearly translucent. So much so that Gimli could follow the taller man’s veins under his skin in several places. Almost all of the beautiful glow he had was gone. Gimli sat down beside the bed and tried to think of the magical words that would bring Legolas around. Nothing was coming to him though. The pretty words he’d somehow managed to call up before to charm even the fair Galadriel was failing him now; the one time that the consequences were far too high for him to accept. “Come now, Legolas… you don’t really want to leave, do you?

“I don’t know what you heard, Lad, that got you so upset, but you’ve got to snap out of it. Just… just come back already. I can’t… I can’t follow you this time, Legolas, so you have to come to me,” Gimli said, struggling to put everything that was swirling in his head into words. “Just… come back…”


	6. Chapter Six

He was floating in the sea. But this sea was not the same one that called to him. It wasn’t the warm glowing horizon of a home he had never seen that was reaching out to him. It was endless black depths of ice cold water. It seeped into his every pore and twined through his veins and body like some insidious plague.

He could see nothing but darkness above him and the cold of the water had stolen the strength and feeling from his limbs. He couldn’t bring himself to try and swim upwards and in fact sunk deeper into the black. His hand he could still see was a chilling white where it floated. A far more soulless and deathly white than he had ever seen. He couldn’t even feel his fingers anymore, it wasn’t worth the effort to try and swim. It caused painful needles to dig into every inch of his body if he tried to reach the surface. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sinking but he was tired. His eyes felt frozen in place and his lungs were impaled from inside from how cold the water was. It had seeped in so far that he thought he’d never be warm again.

It was so dark and desolate where he sunk. He could draw no strength from anything around him. There were no stars or sun, no trees or grass, not even any animals. The pain was like nothing else. It ripped his chest in two although it wasn’t as sharp a pain as it had been a little while ago. His senses were dulling under the unrelenting ice of this black sea. His hand was growing harder to distinguish. The black of the water seemed to be stealing what little light his body had. His could almost see through himself. Like looking through a frosted glass.

His vision continued to dim until his hand faded into darkness. He knew that should alarm him, but it didn’t. He was exhausted and the pain was unrelenting. He just wanted it to stop. His immortal life was a burden here. It had been for a long time now if he was honest with himself. Ever since he’d found a joy beyond that of the stars, singing, and dancing. It was a love that had swallowed him more completely than he could ever have dreamed and was now weighing him further down into this bottomless despair.

Several strands of hair floated before his unfocused eyes. The gold had faded to a greyish imitation and little crystals of ice had formed along their length. The strands seemed to evaporate into nothing and he realized that it wouldn’t be very much longer. He welcomed the end of the desolation and breathed deep the cold despite the pain. It had been far too long since he had been warm. Too long since he had seen anything but the dark emptiness that had enveloped him.

He felt the pain in his chest become numb though it was not enough to bring true relief. Not even remotely could it do that. But it helped some.

And then, he slowly realized he could hear something. He had not heard anything in so very long he couldn’t believe that he could now. It was a low rumble but warm and not at all harsh. At first he dismissed it. What could this distant undistinguishable rumble mean anyway? He wouldn’t be here for much longer. Then the pain would be over. But the noise persisted with what he could only think to call stubbornness.

The pain returned with a vengeance and took his breath away. It was as if hooks had dug into his heart and lungs and were pulling at his every fiber of being. The more he listened, the more it hurt to do so. Instinctively he tried to turn away. To stop the pain that hearing the distant noise brought.

The noise continued in the same unrelenting rumble despite his desires to not hear it. He couldn’t seem to block it away and half of him didn’t want to. Not really. It was the only source of warmth in this horrid place. He just wished it didn’t hurt so much. No matter where he tried to pull away to the noise doggedly followed. As the pain grew worse, he began to realize that the rumbles had a pattern to them that he couldn’t help but find familiar.

The rumbles grew louder and more persistent as did the pain. It was as if his body was thawing and coming to life again. But he didn’t want it to. It hurt so much and the pain had finally almost completely been numbed away. He didn’t want to feel it again. But the noises would simply not be ignored. The very nature and presence of it demanded his attention. The hooks inside of him began to almost heat until they were searing through his frozen self. It was agonizingly painful and he tried his best to sink again. To be where it wouldn’t hurt. But it seemed he couldn’t sink any longer. The part of him that was desperate for warmth over numbness could not release the noise and would not fall away into the abyss.

The pain continued to grow and spread until he was certain, had he the strength, he would have wept from the intensity of it. Still, the noise continued until he was able to realize it as a voice. A warm but sad voice. It shouldn’t be sad. It didn’t sound at all natural. He felt the urge to reach out to it, but it was far beyond his strength at the moment. The pain would not let him go and still tried to drag him down but as feeling returned to his body he realized something else was pulling him upwards. Something warm but entirely relentless. A more tangible warmth that would not let go of him despite his instinctive struggles to sink again.

He became aware, slowly, of his hand again. It was being held inside of a raging fire, but it was strangely not burning. The pain from the ice seemed to melt away from the fire without even a twinge of discomfort. Something that shouldn’t be possible. Then he realized the fire did not feel like fire but something more solid. A rough grip that was surprisingly gentle around his thin fingers. It was the grip that was pulling him upwards. Forcing him back towards the surface. He still couldn’t see. Or even feel much. But that grip on his hand was solid and real.

It took what felt like ages more until the voice became distinguishable to him. Even then he couldn’t immediately understand the words. It felt to him as if he hadn’t heard someone speak in ages. But the voice. The voice came to him far faster than the words it was saying. It was warm and had an accent he used to dislike but had become insanely fond of despite himself. It was a voice that he could quite easily listen to for ages and never tire of. It was soothing in a way the numbness had not been. More of himself turned towards the voice. The cold numbness of sinking was still trying to drag him down, but the pain was fading from the warmth of that voice and he could not help but rather that over the cold.

There was another voice. Barely recognizable. Very distant and difficult to hear. But it was there. Off and on. “How is he?”

“Seems a bit better,” that voice he loved so much replied to the distant one. “Color’s not so bad… still hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Shouldn’t you get some rest, Gimli? It’s been days…”

“If I leave him now he might get worse,” he almost snapped. “I’m not going anywhere.” Suddenly the voice dropped in tone. “Ya here that, lad? I’m not leaving you be until ya wake up. So get up already, ya daft princeling.”

He felt like sobbing, but he wasn’t at all sure why. There had been nothing in particular about the words that had upset him but still he felt the urge to dissolve into very undignified sobs. The voice persisted, even when he wasn’t actively listening. It seemed to slowly be wrapping around his still mostly frozen body and pull him closer. It kept the ice at bay as it pulled him upwards. Still the cold would not fully release him.

He sought refuge in the voice. It was warm and familiar and incredibly stubborn. He didn’t know how long Gimli spoke, but he rarely paused. If he did, it was only for a moment. He listened to Gimli as much as he could, drawing a strange strength from what he heard. It was almost as if he was finding a new fiery sun to draw his light from.

“Ya know, Legolas… I still don’t know why you elves do what you do,” Gimli muttered as he held his beloved elf’s limp but thankfully less cold hand. Legolas’ color had indeed been improving, but Gimli was reaching the end of his endurance. He had been trying to reach Legolas for nearly as long as Legolas had been in his state. Thranduil had told Gimli that because his son was so far gone it might take longer to bring him back, but that hadn’t given Gimli much encouragement. Gimli was certain that if he paused for longer than it took to rewet his throat he would lose what progress he had made.

Thranduil had been surprisingly helpful in keeping Gimli awake. He had been bringing Gimli a tea that reenergized him if only for short bursts. It helped him stay awake despite how muddled his brain seemed to be becoming. He had been awake for too long, even for a hearty dwarf warrior. Gimli sighed and ran a hand over the side of Legolas’ face so that he could brush some loose strands of hair back behind his pointed ear. He was nearing the end of his ability to stay up. He had to make one last burst of an attempt to get the elf to return to them. “Legolas, listen to me now, ya can’t just go and fade like this. Yer too much of a fighter to go like this.”

Gimli’s fingers took on a life of their own as he continued to stroke Legolas’ hair. “They say that you love me, Legolas. I don’t know if that’s true because you’ve never said it to me. To be honest, I don’t know if I can believe you love me even if you were the one to say it. You’re so… what could you see in me, Legolas?” No matter how hard he puzzled over it, he wasn’t able to come up with what he thought was a satisfactory answer. “You’re an elf Prince, who could live forever, beautiful and graceful but not like them other elves. You’re not cold and distant Legolas…” He had thought that once but now he simply couldn’t think like that of Legolas. Not after knowing him so long.

Gimli wet his lips before shifting to sit on the bed rather than the chair. He scrambled in his mind for the only things that he hadn’t yet said to the ill elf. Something had to work. “Legolas… I’m not sure if you can hear me, but I pray you can. I know we dwarves do nothing simply. I don’t know what I can give you that another elf or even man could. I’m not tall or fair or graceful like an elf. But I want you to know this… I do love you, Legolas. You are my very reason for being. I would give everything I am and more for you and your happiness, Legolas. Even if we were not together as I dream of being, I would never be happy apart from you. You are my very heart and soul. Without you… I would be naught but the lifeless rock that Mahal shaped us from. I would fight every hardship this world can offer for you, but I cannot fight for you. So please, my heart, please come back to me.”

There was a moment of silence as Gimli forced down a sudden swelling of emotion at the thought that he might simply be unable to reach the elf. Gimli leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Legolas’ own cold ones. They were too cold but just as soft and sweet as Gimli had dreamed them to be. Gimli’s thumb brushed across the elf’s cheek as he pulled back just far enough to speak again. “If you do not return, Legolas… I will drag you back myself. Even if I must fight all the Valar to do so. I will not let you fade. I cannot,” he rested his forehead against Legolas’ own and closed his eyes. “I cannot be without you, my dearest One,” he just managed to whisper past the rock in his throat.

He couldn’t think of anything else to do. He had poured out everything in his heart day after day and still Legolas had not so much as moved. It felt like someone was carving out his heart with the wrong side of a pick. He hated the burning in his eyes. He had not cried since he buried his cousins. But this, losing Legolas was too much. He couldn’t stop them. “Kurdulu, only for you would I beg… and I do. Please come back. _Please_.”

There was no response. Gimli tucked his face into Legolas’ shoulder and held the taller man close. Despite his every attempt to not do so, he could not help but let loose a few harsh sobs before they tore their own way out of his chest. It felt like every part of him was shattering all at once. The world seemed drab and grey and utterly devoid of life if Legolas was not in it. So heart broken, Gimli did not realize at first that the elf’s hand twitched slightly against the covers. He was too entirely consumed by the grief and guilt. He had failed. What a pathetic dwarf he was if he couldn’t even call to the one he adored. He would never forgive himself.

The warm, strong embrace around him and the heart-wrenching sobs echoed a matching pain in him. Legolas could not move away from such despair. It tore at him and despite the lingering pain of the cold there was simply no way for him to ignore the pain of the other. Legolas could feel the hole in both of them and fought to move closer. He didn’t know what he could do, but he had to do something. It was difficult to move. Every limb felt as if filled with lead and he was too weak to move them. Still, the agony would not allow him to relent. He finally managed to break the surface of the sea and though it was a struggle his vision began to clear.

He was very confused when he could make out what was in front of him. It was the ceiling of his room in Helms Deep. He had been certain he wasn’t there before. A split second later he realized he was being held almost painfully tightly. He couldn’t find the strength to move much, but the fiery hair beside his cheek told him clearly who it was. Even if the stature and strength of him had not already done so. It broke Legolas’ heart to hear Gimli sobbing as he was. His dear strong dwarf doing such a thing tore at him like nothing else. He needed to comfort his dwarf. He had to stop his sorrow somehow. Legolas’ mouth and throat were bone dry, but he could not find the strength to lift his arm either so he tried hard to work past it.

“Gimli…” Legolas could tell from the dwarf’s lack of reaction that he hadn’t managed to make his voice loud enough to be heard over Gimli’s own sorrow. He tried to wet his mouth and tried again. “Gimli. Meleth…”

Gimli froze and pulled back, a look of obvious shock on his face. “Legolas?” his hand came to cradle the side of the elf’s face. “Legolas, you’ve come back…”

Legolas leaned into Gimli’s hand slightly and his eyes drifted shut for the first time in weeks. It was actually painful how dry his eyes had become. “I could not leave you to such grief…” he murmured, his voice still a thread of what it usually was. He managed to open his eyes again to look at the dwarf that was practically straddling him. “Why were you so upset, Gimli?”

“Daft elf! Why do you think?” Gimli demanded in the angriest tone he could muster. He was fighting tears again although this time he managed to keep them contained. “You’ve been fading for weeks!”

Legolas blinked, somewhat confused. “Fading?” he echoed.

“Yes, fading!” Gimli snapped harshly. “And you’re going to tell me what made you that upset as soon as ya get looked at!” He had every intention of storming off to go get Thranduil or the healers or even a maid for all he cared. But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to put Legolas back down against the bed and leave him for even a second.

Legolas still looked confused but then understanding seemed to come over him. “I see. I am sorry, Gimli. I was not myself. I… could not control my heartache,” he muttered.

“So Thranduil said.” Gimli was somewhat amused by the way Legolas’ eyes widened at his father’s name.

“Father said?” Legolas echoed in clear shock.

Gimli smiled, “Oh yes, Elf, you were in a bad state. Your father had to be told and he came immediately. In fact, he should be checking on us in about half an hour.” Legolas looked, perhaps, the most mortified Gimli had ever seen him. But there were things that Gimli needed to know. He needed to hear them from Legolas himself. “He also said… that your heartache was over me, elf.”

Legolas seemed to freeze for a second and then his head turned ever so slightly to the side. That was very telling, but Gimli didn’t relent. “Legolas. Is that true? Did I cause ya to be like this?”

There was a very tense moment of silence as Legolas stared at nothing. “Ada… sees through me very easily. It is quite infuriating at times…” he murmured. “He is right, meleth. It was my feelings for you that gave me grief. But it was not your fault. I was… not sure the depth of my feelings until just recently…”

“Why didn’t ya tell me, ya daft elf!”

“I could not burden you with my feelings,” Legolas muttered.

Gimli gave an exasperated sigh. “Alright, ya flighty thing, listen close.” Legolas raised an eyebrow at the form of address and looked more closely at Gimli. “You’ll never be a burden to me. Ever. So don’t ya go and do this again. If something had happened to ya… I-I’d never forgive myself. I need you, Legolas. If you were to disappear… I-I’d be nothing at all. You’re my One, Legolas. The one person in this world that I was made for and don’t you ever doubt that.” 

Legolas’ eyes had widened again. “But-”

“Don’t ya but me, elf!” Gimli ordered. “I know who I love an’ I love you so go back to singing and being crazy, would ya?” His voice and eyes softened again as he brushed some of Legolas’ hair back behind his ear. “I hate seeing ya like this, Legolas. I don’t ever wanna see it again.”

There was a long moment of silence between them before Legolas smiled some. He managed to raise a hand to finger some of Gimli’s wild red locks. “I thought you hated my singing.”

Gimli grunted as if annoyed but still tenderly stroked his elf’s head. “I hate ya quiet more.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. The last chapter of this fic. I might write a naughty oneshot sequel to this but not right this second. I hope you enjoy and that I remembered all the little things I had to wrap up.

Though Gimli had every intention of continuing to scold his love over the worry he’d put them all through, his relief at finally having Legolas back removed the one thing that had been keeping his exhaustion at bay. Legolas was rather amused when he realized Gimli had fallen asleep right in the middle of scolding him, though he let the fiery haired dwarf sleep. Legolas’ long fingers brushed through Gimli’s hair gently as the dwarf used Legolas’ chest like a pillow. He was snoring but that didn’t bother Legolas as much as it once had. He could tell how tired Gimli was. The elf felt truly awful for worrying his love and everyone else that Gimli had not neglected to say were also worried. If he had realized just how deeply his emotions had run he would have at least attempted to safeguard himself against such situations. 

But, he decided, it didn’t much matter now. He would never have expected Gimli to save his soul from fading but the fact remained that he had. Legolas hadn’t thought it possible for his love for the dwarf to grow any deeper but if there was one thing Dwarves would good at it was digging deep. Legolas looked down at where Gimli was snoring and couldn’t help but smile. He probably should not mention to his dearest how adorable he currently looked. He wouldn’t have thought Dwarves could be adorable but here Gimli was proving that wrong. Legolas brushed his fingers over Gimli’s cheek, straightening some loose strands of hair into their proper places.

A few moments later, Legolas heard the door to the room open and looked up to see who it was. Though Gimli had said Thranduil was in Helm’s Deep, Legolas was still surprised to see his father standing there. There was a moment of tense silence before Thranduil swept across the room in an instant. “Legolas… _Ionneg_ , you are awake,” Thranduil nearly breathed as he reached out to brush his own finely boned hand over Legolas’ head gently. “When I saw you I feared you too far gone.”

Legolas felt the sting of having upset his father as well. “ _Ada_ , I’m sorry to have worried you,” he said. There was a moment of silence between them before Thranduil sat in the chair Gimli had abandoned earlier.

Thranduil glanced over the Dwarf sleeping practically in his son’s lap and despite himself was almost as amused as his son. He certainly didn’t seem to be the same Dwarf he’d heard about right now. “Your Dwarf was quite determined to bring you back. I’m glad he managed to succeed though it took him some time.”

The younger elf gave a bit of a start. “My Dwarf?” he echoed. He then realized his father seemed strangely unbothered by the position they were in and his ears turned a bit pink. He wasn’t sure why his father was not upset by this but he was glad. “Father…”

The Woodland King held up a hand, keeping Legolas from continuing to try and stumble through some sort of explanation. It took Thranduil a moment to gather his thoughts and speak but when he did it was in Sindarin. “ _I will not pretend to be entirely happy by your choice, Legolas. I do not see what you do, although this Dwarf by far is the least infuriating I’ve met. But, I also know that one cannot simply change their heart so I will not bother asking you to try._ ” 

Legolas studied his father for a few moments before nodding. “ _Thank you, Father. I know you probably cannot understand but I do love him_.”

“ _That is rather obvious,_ ” Thranduil replied dryly. “ _Just so long as you are certain you are happy, son. My understanding is not required. I would like to be able to understand but I cannot. However, I do accept it as a truth. So long as he does not keep you locked away underground like Dwarves love to do with their treasures._ ”

Legolas shook his head ever so slightly and decided to not open up what could easily turn into an argument. He would much rather just enjoy that his Father was willing to accept things as they were even if those things did baffle him.

“Why did you not protect yourself against this, Legolas?” Thranduil asked after several moments of silence. His son was not unintelligent. Grief over a mortal had been well documented and the Woodland King was having a hard time believing that Legolas would be so foolish as to just allow himself to fall into this state.

The younger looked to the side and pain briefly flitted across his still somewhat unhealthily pale face. “I did not realize until I heard his kin discussing his possible brides…” he murmured. “It hit me like a charging oliphaunt how easy it is to lose him and what that would do to me. Before I knew it I was lost in the despair of that knowledge. It wasn’t until I heard his pain that I managed to find my way back…”

Thranduil was silent again before sighing. “I suppose… at the very least, you are happy and this will… mend some of the relations with the Greenwood and Erebor,” he said though he didn’t sound as entirely happy about it as the sentence on its own might suggest. 

Still, Legolas would take it. “Thank you, _Ada_.”

The ancient elf waved a hand slightly as he got up. “Do not thank me yet, you are the one that will have to deal with the dwarves, my son,” he said before making his way towards the door. “That, I am certain, would test even the patience and good will of the Valar.”

Despite himself, Legolas found himself smiling even as his father left the room. “Says tha’ like it’s a bad thing,” came the half asleep comment from the redhead against Legolas’ chest.

Legolas’ smile grew. “Do you forget who my father is, _Meleth_?”

Gimli snorted inelegantly. “Course na. His royal elf-ness don’t let anyone forget who he is.”

Legolas looked down at the dwarf even as he continued to play with the strands of red hair. “I thought you were asleep,” he said. Gimli hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and didn’t seem terribly inclined to change that anytime soon. “You should rest if you’re tired.”

“I am resting,” Gimli grunted back. “And it’s na my fault your da wakes me up jus’ with the sound o’ his voice. It’s all… fussy.”

“Fussy?” Legolas echoed with a laugh. He hadn’t ever heard his father’s voice described like that before.

“Shaddup, elf, I’m too tired ta think o’ something better.”

Legolas tried to straighten his smile into a more passive face but failed. “I’ll let you get your rest then and recover your strength.” That got an instant rise out of the dwarf, as he knew it would. Gimli pushed himself up and cast a glare at the slightly more mortal looking elf that he so adored.

“I don’t need ta recover my strength and ya know it!” he said with no small amount of heat. Legolas had the audacity to paint an innocent look on his face. As if Gimli couldn’t see right through that look. “Daft elf,” he growled before giving into the temptation and kissing the look right off his face. He couldn’t really help it. Even when Legolas was being the most daft fanciful thing in middle Earth, Gimli couldn’t resist him.

Gimli decided the best ‘punishment’ was a particularly hard kiss to convey all the frustration the elf caused on a daily basis. It was doomed to backfire on him but he didn’t really care either. Feeling Legolas’ slender but muscular arms around him and getting to taste his mouth so fully was plenty enough reason on it’s own. Gimli had always been one for richer darker tastes but Legolas wasn’t anything like that at all. He reminded the dwarf of chilly streams and refreshing breezes and it was a wonderful taste all the same. A different sort of flavor he hadn’t realized he’d been craving. He all but devoured the elf, tangling his thick callused fingers in silky smooth hair and cradling the still weak elf as if he were made of the thinnest most delicate crystal ever made.

Legolas, for his part, met the dwarf’s intensity with equal amounts of his own. Gimli was all earth and rock, which was good as Legolas was certain he’d have been flung far away without some solid grounding to hold onto. Everything from Gimli’s rock solid muscles under his fingers to his mass of untameable hair to the very possessive yet tender way the dwarf held onto him was just perfect. He could lose himself in the rawness of it and still know he was perfectly safe. That he had something solid and real to keep him anchored despite the incredible depth and range of soaring emotions he felt.

They quite possibly would have stayed lost within the wonder of each other for a while longer if Gimli hadn’t noticed Legolas begin to falter. He reluctantly broke the kiss and, though he couldn’t resist a few more pecks of his elf’s slightly kiss bruised lips, he made sure Legolas was fully laying down again. “If anyone needs ta rest here, it’s you, lad,” he murmured.

“I’ve rested long enough, I think,” Legolas replied just as softly. “I find it much more pleasing to taste you.”

“As do I but you’re na recovered yet,” Gimli said as he adjusted the covers over Legolas’ chest in a thinly veiled attempt to ensure that Legolas stayed fully down.

Legolas caught his dwarf’s large hands in his. “Gimli. I will be fine. Though I would enjoy continuing this, you are right. We could both use some more rest,” he said with a bit of a smile. Gimli grumbled some but returned to his original spot lying against Legolas’ chest. He could easily hear the elf’s steady heartbeat and it was comforting after how close they had come to losing him. “We will have to continue this line of thought later when we are feeling more up to it.”

Gimli couldn’t help but smirk some. “I’m already up ta it, elf,” he said. “But, Aye, you’re right. An’ once you’re rested up some I’ve got a whole bunch o’ ya I’m wanting ta taste.” He didn’t have to look up to know that Legolas’ pretty face would be flushed and his ridiculous pointed ears would be pink. He couldn’t help but chuckle even as long fingers tugged at one of his locks of hair in retailiation for the teasing.

There were several moments of comfortable silence before Gimli gently but firmly poked Legolas in the ribs. “Alright. Now, tell me, wha’ happened at the party,” he ordered. “An’ no sidesteppin’ it this time.”

Legolas regarded his love carefully. “What makes you think anything happened at the party to begin with?”

“Cause that’s when ya started actin’ strange, Legolas. I know somethin’ happened so tell me what it was,” Gimli repeated.

The elf sighed some and shifted so that his chin was resting lightly against Gimli’s head. “Are you certain you want to know?” Gimli’s answer was as blunt and unmistakable as Legolas could expect. He sighed again and continued playing with the mass of red hair beside him. “You were very drunk. I don’t think I’d ever seen you so. I brought you back to your room and got you to bed. Before I could leave though you grabbed me.”

Gimli felt dread rise up and jerked so suddenly he almost caused Legolas to bite his own tongue. “Legolas! I didn’t hurt ya did I?” he demanded as he spun to face the elf.

Legolas gave a small laugh. “No, Gimli. You didn’t hurt me. You kissed me and then fell asleep. I was very confused but when I went to ask you about it the next day it was clear you didn’t remember it at all. I was… disappointed you didn’t remember, though I wasn’t really sure why just then. It wasn’t until I heard someone talking about you marrying that I realized why I’d wanted you to remember it… That it had been my chance with you and I had thought I lost it.”

The dwarf lord studied his love for several minutes before allowing himself to relax enough for a small laugh. “Daft elf. Ya should have jus’ told me.”

“I realize that now but then I wasn’t sure how to do so. You didn’t remember it and I wasn’t even sure if you knew who I was when you did it,” Legolas said. “I didn’t want to risk you having been thinking I was someone else and ruin our friendship by admitting what really happened.”

Gimli was silent for a moment before grunting and settling back against Legolas’ chest, ensuring the elf wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. “Well, if it makes ya feel better, I’m pretty sure I knew it was you when I did it.”

“How could you know that when you don’t remember doing it?” Legolas asked curiously.

“Cause even drunk I would only kiss someone I loved, Legolas,” Gimli answered simply. Legolas absorbed that statement for a moment before wrapping his arms tightly around his dwarf. It was so simple and yet it spoke volumes at the same time. By the stars he loved this dwarf. He didn’t know how he had ever thought poorly of him.

“Rest, elf.”

“I will, Gimli,” Legolas murmured into thick red hair. “But I simply must hold you for another few moments.”

“Daft elf,” Gimli said though Legolas was easily able to hear the love and fondness beneath the surface. He smiled and tightened his hold a little more. Gimli patted his arm gently but didn’t attempt to protest again. Not even half-heartedly like before. If Legolas needed to just sit there and be cuddly for a few minutes… well, Gimli wasn’t going to complain about that of all things. Despite what he once thought there was worse things in the world than clingy elves. A lack of one particularly clingy elf for instance would be a truly devastating thing.


End file.
